Touches
by Serienjunkie 91
Summary: Jimmy's thoughts on Thomas' actions in season 3. A little bit of Thommy fun.
1. Chapter 1

**Touches**

Hey Everyone!

Here's my first FF in a long time. I'll hope you like it and would really love to hear from you.

Please note that I'm German and English is not my first language.

Have fun. =)

* * *

><p>The first time it happens, it's because I'm in need of his help. Apparently he's got some knowledge that I've not. That's odd.<p>

Clocks…what's there to know? Nothing much I assume…Or am I wrong?

Well he told me that I could come to him whenever I'll need some advice. And here we are.

Standing in front of one of the bigger clocks in the house near the staircase.

He talks and talks. Obviously he knows his clocks. He's standing rather close looking into my eyes. His own sparkling with some kind of emotion. Motivation and something more, I guess. I can't quite put a word to it. It's a look I've not seen on him yet. As he always appears rather cold and detached. Never letting his emotional mask slip. But maybe now I'm able to see how he really is.

He seems to really love this. But what exactly does he love about this, I wonder…all the things about working with clocks…or helping me, being asked for advice…or all of the above.

With all the time we've spend here standing around I'm afraid that big grumpy Carson will be on our backs eventually. We should really go on with what we are doing or we'll regret it deeply.

As if he's read my thoughts, he moves even closer to myself, puts his hands on my sides and steers me around until I'm standing in front of the clock. Him standing directly behind me. He's so close that I'm able to feel every breath he takes and hear every rustle of his clothes.

Rather too close if you ask me.

This fact makes me kind of nervous, my heart's beating a little faster than usually and I can feel my face beginning to heat. I'm breathing rather shallow as I don't want to move too much.

What else should I do…He's here to help me so it's not my place to push him away as I wouldn't want to offend him, put him off too much. Because who knows what the future will bring and how often I'll be in need of his advice again. Wouldn't want to get on his bad side.

So I'll chance a look over my shoulder so that he's aware that I'm following the things he's explaining…even when I'm not.

The next thing I notice is that he pulls me from my thoughts by a new, overwhelming sensation. He slowly takes my hand as if he doesn't want to frighten me by his doings…

too late for that.

He holds it up so that we are able so wind the clock on the right time. In the back of my mind I hear him talking about feeling an increase in resistance of some sort.

YES I feel this resistance. But not in connection with the clock but him holding my hand and being TOO CLOSE.

I have to take a deep breath as I'm feeling rather lightheaded. Probably because I'm so angry.

"I think so." I tell him to not make him notice that I've not been paying attention.

"That's what you are watching for. " I don't think so. "Never go past the point where the clock's comfortable", he says and puts his warm hand on my shoulder and moves even closer. I wasn't aware that'd be possible.

Nonetheless I have to smile a little as he talks about the clocks and makes it sound like they are living things. I tell him that and he's speaking again. Telling me about his dad having been a clockmaker and other things you may have to pay attention to in handling them.

I'm not really sure what to think of this whole situation beginning to fidget with my hand as I'm in dire need to let off some steam in any way.

It's been a long time since someone stood as close to me or touched me. I can't even put a finger on the last time someone touched me that much. It was probably back in London when I kissed some pretty girl one time or another.

Which is definitely a completely different situation from what we…what he's doing here!

In the background I hear him droning on and on about the clock without noticing what he's saying. At that moment I've drowned in my own little world contemplating the meaning of all of this.

It's not a bad feeling coursing through my body. But I can't put a name on it either.

It's just unique. Unfamiliar.

But I guess in a society like ours it's got to be normal to be confused by something as easy as a touch. As that's not a really common thing between people who are not friendly to or married with each other.

And if I'm completely honest with myself in this situation I'm a little freaked.

I'm just not accustomed to feel another person so close when I'm not related to them or in search of a new fling.

Maybe that's just the way he acts, I assure myself. I've got to pay closer attention to the way he's behaving with the other people downstairs.

Someone comes up the stairs and the moment's over.

Thankfully…

How I notice…well because he's pulled away and is not speaking anymore. He's standing at a common distance to myself again. What a relief…

His eyes are searching my face looking into my eyes doing what exactly…waiting for some kind of reaction maybe…well then he'll have a long time to wait. That's for sure.

Next I see a small smile flicker across his face. For most people you wouldn't even be able to describe it as a smile or notice it at all as there's just one corner of his lips slowly turning up. But his eyes shine with a warmth which show his intention. Afterwards he lowers his head insecurely as if he's not sure he did the right thing. Showing me his half-smile.

The way he's behaving I can't resist and push my doubts away, returning his smile with a small grin of thanks of my own.

Well I'll best give it all a chance. Maybe people here at Downton are just a little bit different from the ones at Lady Anstruther's.

And maybe he is just a touchy-feely person.

I'll probably get used to it given some time.

With a small indication of his head we're on our way back downstairs. No other words are spoken between us. Not that I've made much of a noise during this encounter.

Now I'm allowing myself to breath deeply again letting all the pressure and insecurities which've crept into my posture fall off.

I have to wonder where they've come from as I've never been a shy person.

I'm Jimmy Kent.

I'm NOT insecure.

Never.


	2. Chapter 2

Touches

Chapter 2

The next time it happened it was in the servants' hall of all places. The whole household was currently in deep grief of Lady Sybil's death.

It was as if a big grey cloud was hanging over all our heads darkening the sky. Not an easy situation.

I'm neither cold nor heartless but I couldn't quite grasp the feeling lingering all around me as I've not really got to know Lady Sybil in the short time of working here.

So I put on a grieving mask like everyone else letting myself be sucked into the hole her death has left in the atmosphere of the house.

One evening as we were just sitting down for our dinner conversation turned unexpectedly to her again. Alfred let off some rather rude comment to Mr Barrow about his long face not helping anyone. His stony and sad eyes suddenly turned angry and scathing but before he could say anything Anna came to his – or rather Alfred's – rescue. Telling us all that he was so sad because Lady Sybil was one of the people in the house he knew best and vice versa because of him working with her during the war.

As I was sitting so close to him and could clearly see how it hurt him to even talk about her I couldn't help myself to comment as well.

Telling everyone, but especially him how it spoke very well for Lady Sybil that her death was so hard in him.

Why I did it, I can't really say. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I felt like an outsider in this situation. Looking through a thick window into a hall of people experiencing feelings I wasn't experiencing. Not that I didn't know how grief worked. No that definitely wasn't the point as I've lost my parents just a few years ago and was still deeply upset about it. It was probably more the realisation that these people who worked for her – but who weren't her friend or anything similar – were so concerned and moved by her death.

Or maybe it was that in the short time I'd been here that I've never seen Mr Barrow showing so much feeling towards anyone. He always seemed to be just there – hair perfectly slicked back, emotionless mask on his face showing a neutral expression to anyone who'd pay attention to it. Apart from our "clock encounter" as I called it in my head I'd never seen his mask slip, until now.

And it got even stranger as he answered my comment with a little smile, some kind words of thanks and leaned a little bit to my seat beside him grasping my hand under the table and giving it a small squeeze.

My breath came suddenly to a stop, my eyes widening only slightly so that everyone else wouldn't notice what he's done.

Good lord. He was doing it again – touching me without any reason at all.

As soon as I took my next breath he removed his hand from my own and more importantly my thigh and put all his concentration back to the conversation going on around us. Just like nothing's ever happened.

It was hard for me not to cringe at the thought of him touching me so openly in front of everyone else. What was he thinking? Or more correctly was he thinking anything at all?

Why would he do something like this in the servants' hall with a dozen people and Mr Carson being around who may or may not be able to notice anything.

Or did he just want to show me his gratitude? Well but why would he want to show his intention with touching me? His smile would have been enough to bring his message across quite clearly but no…Mr I-touch-you- in- front- of- everyone has to do it again.

A scowl has found its place onto my face as I can't stop contemplating his actions. I'm just relieved that I didn't blush because that would have been a real giveaway for the others that something has been going on.

As I try to concentrate on my meal again I let my gaze wander throughout the room trying to find out if one of them noticed anything.

They all seemed to be in their own little world- some talking, some just sitting there and eating. And as I've finished my look around the hall my eyes settle on the posture of the person sitting closest to me.

He doesn't return my looking at him so I make use of this possibility to analyse him discreetly out of the corner of my eye. He doesn't look as sad anymore as a few minutes ago, he looks…well how to put it best…

He looks a little happy if I'm not wrong.

What brought on this change in him, I wonder? Did I do this? Just with my little comment?

I can't really believe it but the more I think about it the more I feel some kind of warmth settling into the pit of my stomach making myself feel rather light and even a little bit content.

I did this.

I'm able to make someone like Mr Barrow smile in time of deep grief.

This feeling makes me grin inside my mind.

Well maybe I wasn't just grinning subconsciously but in reality as well as I see him turning his head towards me and giving me a knowing look.

I nearly choke on my food which results in him patting my back until I raise an arm to signal him that I'm not about to die and everything's alright.

Maybe he CAN read my mind.

At this thought I flush bright red. At least I think so as I feel my cheeks heating with embarrassment that I obviously wasn't as discreet as I'd hoped.

I lower my head concentrating 100% on anything but the things that have happened just now and try to clear my mind of any incriminating thoughts.

I'm not sure if I'm correct but I could swear that I can make out a light snickering noise coming from my left. Bastard!


	3. Chapter 3

Touches

Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear what you think of this story. So even if it's just a one word review, I'd be happy about it.

So please lean back and enjoy.

Chapter 3

It's been some weeks since Lady Sybil's death. Even though the family's still behaving as if it's just happened yesterday.

I think it probably wasn't the grief lingering in every corner of the Abbey that was hardest on me. No, it was a time of stillness, of quietness- which meant it must have been about two months since I came here straight from Lady Anstruther.

And in all this time I wasn't able to give an outlet to my feelings through music. It simply wasn't possible to test the piano in the servants' hall since it would have been inappropriate to destroy the silence surrounding us.

Just the thought of bringing some happiness into the halls of Downton again too soon and I can certainly imagine Carson screaming outrageously at me how I may be that heartless and unsavoury.

That's why I'm rather lost.

When will be the right moment to introduce some fun again?

I'm really uncertain and it doesn't make it easier for me to know that I'm definitely NOT Carson's favourite employee in the house. Wouldn't want to make him angry because of something like this.

The problem is that I can already feel my fingers tingling, wanting to feel the cool texture of the black and white keys again. Playing the piano has become a great way to channel my feelings in some way in the last few years.

As I was little I abhorred it. It was annoying having to pay attention to so many little aspects like going to all the lessons, learning to understand the music and its meaning, always sitting straight, how to hold my hands and all the countless things that came along with being a musician.

In my childhood I hated my parents for making me learn how to play the piano as there were so many different and definitely more pleasant ways to spend an evening.

But now as they are both gone and I don't have anyone else taking care of me than myself I find that I'm thankful for having learned it all these years ago. Because otherwise I wouldn't know how to work on my feelings and let them out into the world as I'm not much of a talker. Well, at least not about stuff of importance to me as I'm a very private person.

And besides, playing an instrument well is a nice way of being complimented by others. As that doesn't happen that often, under normal circumstances.

One morning as I open my eyes to light streams of sun creeping through my window, I know with a certainty that today will be THE day. Today I'm going to try my luck.

At this thought I can already feel a slight smile stealing on my lips and a light feeling floating through my body. Now I only have to make it through the day and this evening I'll make the servants' hall a joyous place again.

The day drags on like it always happens when you are excited about something, like waiting for Christmas Eve.

Throughout our dinner I feel giddy and can't appear to sit still. I'm desperately trying not to annoy anyone with my fidgeting as this may result in Carson sending me to my bed early like I'm a little child who refused to eat its vegetables – certainly wouldn't be the first time for me.

But this evening it would certainly kill me.

All day I've been considering which song I'd like to play first and now as dinner's finished and some servants begin to go up to their rooms I see my chance.

As its only about five people in the room, and old Carson being nowhere in sight, I stand up and slowly make my way towards the piano sitting quietly in the corner of the servants' hall. Looking a little neglected and lonely.

I take my seat on the bench and inhale the typical smell of the piano in front of me. It smells heavenly, like wood and nature and freedom. Just this makes me a little lightheaded.

But somehow another scent is in the mix that doesn't quite fit. And next I notice Mr Barrow standing just a few feet away, just outside of my reach at the side of the piano. Must be him who's confusing my senses.

We talk about which song would be the right choice and after we are able to decide on one that fits the mood, I take a deep breath, lay my fingers on the smooth surface of the piano and begin to play a jolly tune.

My digits fly over the keys and I feel like I can finally breathe and live again. I feel the desire creeping up inside me to close my eyes, for being able to enjoy the music in all its wonderfulness. But as Mr Barrow's standing near me I'm afraid to indulge in this longing as it feels just a tad too personal. From time to time my eyes trail over his figure standing nearby. A content look on his face, looking like a proud father hearing his son playing for the first time.

I'm rather happy that he likes my playing so much. And with just this thought there's this warmth again blooming inside my chest and eventually finding residence in my whole body. Making my heart flutter a little faster.

The next thing I notice is Mrs Hughes not scolding but complimenting me on my playing. She's got a cheery look on her face and seems to be quite pleased with my idea of bringing some happiness into the hall and the hearts of people again.

Meanwhile I note Mr Barrow moving even closer to my form commenting on their being no end to my talents to someone.

I realize that he's standing right behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders. He's putting some light pressure on them and as he's reminded of his duties for his Lordship again by Ms O Brien lets his hands travel – one clothed, one not – slightly in the direction of my neck.

And with the lightest of touches lets them slide carefully over the nape of my neck.

I suck in a sharp breath as I've never been touched there before and didn't realize until this day how sensitive I'm there. I can feel the little hairs on my neck standing on edge and a fluttery feeling crawling into my stomach as well as a slight blush creeping up my throat into the direction of my ears. Probably must be my insecurity about this scene making itself known to me.

Out of the corner of my eyes I can see Ms O Brien standing nearby and probably having noticed this happening. On a moment's notice I put a scowl on my face contradicting anything else which might have been going on inside me.

She's waiting for my reaction and I wouldn't want to disappoint her. Because of this I summon all the contempt I've ever felt and tell her how much I wish that he'd stop doing this.

And it's partially true as it makes me really uncomfortable to be confronted with him touching me. But I also like the way he looks at me. It always seems to be a mix of happiness, satisfaction and pride.

And underneath a hint of something else…some kind of excitement, maybe…but not that would be absolutely ridiculous. And as fast as it appeared I push the thought from my mind again.

I tell her that I'm considering telling Carson about it, but she tells me off. I even go as far as telling her that I'd want to talk to the police if I knew it'd stop him.

She doesn't like my reaction but doesn't say anything else about the matter and goes off to do her duties for her Ladyship. Well at least that got her off my back. I'm quite relieved and settle back into playing some more.

But somehow even as he's left the room now I can still feel his touch lingering as if he's still standing behind me. I try to concentrate one hundred percent on the instrument in front of me again – trying to push him from my thoughts.

Maybe I should rather talk to him and tell him which effect his actions have on me - telling him to back off. But in the moment that these thoughts cross my mind I already know for sure that I'll probably not do that. As I'm a coward.

I reassure myself that perhaps something positive will come of all these doubts in the end.

And just maybe Mr Barrow's just looking for a companion and a friend. And that's just his way of trying to make sure that I like him as I've already noticed that most of the time he's on his own.

That may be his way of compensating his loneliness but I wonder why I am the recipient of his touches. I'm really not sure.

Couldn't he have chosen Alfred?

And just as this thought crosses my mind a grin begins to light my face because who am I kidding? – Who would touch Alfred when he could have me?

With this said I try to push this situation in the back of my mind like I did with the rest of the incidents between Mr Barrow and myself.

Putting them all carefully into a box labelled "the curious actions of Mr Barrow" and settling back into playing the piano again.


	4. Chapter 4

Touches

Hello everyone!

Here I am again. With a new installment to my story.  
>It would be lovely to hear from you how you like this new chapter. So please take the time and comment. Thank you.<p>

Enjoy.

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

I'm standing inside of a room. How I know? Well I'm not really sure. I guess it's just too dark and too silent for me to be outside. There is a stark darkness surrounding me.

I turn slowly around my own axis. Wanting to make out any detail which may help me identify where I am. But all I'm able to sense is blackness. Blackness everywhere I look combined with a sense of calmness.

Somehow I'm not anxious but just a little curious.

There must be some kind of reason for me to be here as I can't imagine my dreams to be as pointless as me being in a dark room without anything happening at all.

I take a deep breath and begin to find my way through my dim surroundings. My arms are touching around me trying to find some things I might otherwise walk straight into.

I'm not sure if it's because my eyes haven't been in any contact with some light for some minutes but somehow I find my senses sharpening. I feel as if I'm able to make out some streams of something at the end of the room.

Suddenly there's a sound disturbing the silence around me. But I know with a special certainty that there's still a wide space between me and the noise. My ears point me in a certain direction. And trusting my instincts I let my feet carry myself in a new direction.

My breath is even and I try to be as silent as possible. Not that I imagine this dream to take a turn to the worst making everything into a bloody nightmare. But I'd rather not take any chance of that happening.

I appear to get nearer to the thing making the noise.

Whatever it is.

Maybe it's some kind of animal.

But no, probably not, as I'm rather certain that I'm in a closed room, considering the evenness of the ground under my shoes.

I can hear my heart beating faster and the hairs on my arms standing on end. What am I even wearing? Pyjamas? That's just weird. As if I'd go anywhere wearing just my pyjamas.

When I concentrate some more I'm able to hear the blood coursing through my veins and my pulse pulsing in some kind of rushed rhythm.

But even though there's some fear creeping into my bones, my mind tells me with an unnatural confidence that nothing bad may happen to me in this. And I know that at the first sign of getting startled by something I'll make myself wake up.

That's one important point in growing up I desperately needed to perfect. Because as a child and even more after the time of the Great War it was necessary to be able to take at least a little bit of control over my dream world.

And I appear to have mastered it. But I scold myself for even thinking about this. As this will probably be just a harmless and even pleasant fantasy playing around me.

I keep walking on and on and the next thing I notice is someone … breathing.

So I'm in fact not alone in here.

I try to think of an excuse to stop investigating but deep down I know that I'm just a little bit too nosy to let it go and make myself wake up. No, that won't happen anytime soon.

I let my ears steer me into direction of the sounds and I've got the feeling that I'm rather close to the figure. Some mere meters and I see or rather perceive a person standing. It's like an even darker spot being surrounded by blackness. Is that even possible? To see a colour darker then black?

I scold myself for these thoughts and try to concentrate on the matter at hand.

Who is standing near me? Is it a person? Someone I know maybe?

Some man or woman? Someone wanting to hurt me?

Even as the wish to find out more glides through my body I find myself unable to ask any questions. I swallow and try to get the dryness in my mouth to end but it feels as if there's a huge lump in my throat not allowing me to talk or making any sound at all.

Because of this I move slowly into direction of the dark spot until we are only standing about a foot from each other. Under normal circumstances that would be just too close for someone I don't know, yet.

But well this probably might NOT be described as a perfectly normal situation.

Now I ponder the thought - how may I find out more? Especially without being able to voice my doubts?

A deep breath fills my lungs and I note a special scent floating around myself and the spot. It delivers a familiar feeling. Just as if it's not the first time that I'm in close proximity to this smell. It makes me doubt that this person is a stranger to myself.

So how would I describe this odour, I try to enlighten myself. Some kind of heady freshness combined with a hint of nature and something else. But the more I think about it less do I know who I might bring in relation with it. Well that probably shows that in daily life I don't pay attention to the way people around me smell. Well me sniffing at them would perhaps be just a tad too creepy.

And it probably won't be something I'll change in near future. But if I did I'd be a step closer in solving this puzzle.

Okay, I realize that this is not helping at all.

Maybe I should just initiate some kind of contact. At least then I'd know if the spot is some kind of person, man or woman. But do I really dare to? Wouldn't it be rather scary to just touch it? Yes, yes it surely would be and I refrain from doing so. I'm just too much of a coward to dare to touch it.

Just as I'm diving deeper and deeper into my mind, trying to find a way of discovering more information I notice it moving.

I stand still as if I've become a pillar of salt and am not able to even move my little finger as I feel his / her arm (?) coming closer to myself and next one of the softest of touches grazing my temple and my hairline. I can't help but flinch at the unexpectedness of it all.

I seem to hold my breath as the spot moves on.

Letting its fingers (?) glide alongside my ear making the little hairs there stand on end. If I'm true to myself I wouldn't even describe it as a touch. Because of the softness of it, it could rather be labelled as a breath crossing my skin. His / her (?) hand (?) softly grazes my cheek and I'm able to feel slightly sharp edge of a nail (?) sliding over my bottom lip. It feels rather pleasant and I can sense a light-headedness floating to my brain and through my whole body, making this experience even more surreal than it already is.

It's really not a bad feeling. But it's not really real, is it?

As its finger leaves my lip again I have the sudden urge to move my face as much as possible until the touch will be back. I raise my eyebrows, pull a deep breath into my lungs and bite my lower lip as if to make the touch there remain. Not wanting it to be over.

I feel a fluttering settling into the pit of my stomach. My heart beating in an uneven rhythm that would be a shame for any musician. But I'm not able to help it.

I've never felt like this and even if it's wrong I make myself the promise to enjoy every second of what's happening in this dream. As I don't see any situation in near future allowing me to make similar experiences in reality.

I can't stop gnawing on my lip, now rather anxious to know what will happen next. Or even if anything more will happen at all.

But he's not finished yet.

He leans in my direction again, one hand coming to rest on my heart, probably wanting to feel the excitement he makes coarse through me.

Now that I'm really concentrating I can feel the callouses on the tips of his fingers first grazing the nape of my neck, combing through the short strands of my hair and eventually coming to rest on my left cheek. There being slightly different textures to his hand I can't quite place. His thumb is softly stroking my cheekbone as he's certainly gazing deeply into my eyes.

Because even if I'm not able to see anything in the darkness, I'd like to imagine that this is what he's doing.

I stop inhaling as I feel the flutter of his warm breath floating over my face. And with a certain calmness I accept my fate.

The warm press of his lips on mine makes me close my eyes suddenly. He puts a light pressure on my lips as if not to scare me, but there's no danger of that happening anytime soon. I'm feeling as if an octopus has settled itself inside my body, squeezing my organs and making all my extremities feel as if they are made of jelly.

It's a glorious feeling.

And just as his soft, careful lips graze mine I finally throw caution into the wind and as my hand is about to encounter the softness of his skin a loud thudding noise makes my eyes shot open reflexively.

And just like that the dream's over.


	5. Chapter 5

Touches

Hey guys!

I'm back with chapter 5. I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to comment. Comments make my day. Even if they are short. Every single one makes me beam.

Enjoy the continuation of the cliffy and please leave a review on your way out. =)

* * *

><p>Chapter 5 - As straightforward as possible<p>

Recently in Touches…

_It's a glorious feeling._

_And just as his soft, careful lips graze mine I finally throw caution into the wind and as my hand is about to encounter the softness of his skin a loud thudding noise makes my eyes shot open __reflexively._

_And just like that the dream's over. _

I suddenly open my eyes wanting to look out for the reason of the thudding noise.

But the moment I do just that…namely opening my eyes, I come to look into the startled eyes of one Mr Thomas Barrow.

My breath catches in my throat and as soon as I realize what exactly is happening in reality here I push him from my bed- telling him to get off me, nearly not being able to free my feet from the bedding covering me as I'm acting so hastily.

My mind is still full of confusion.

What is Mr Barrow doing in my room and why was he leaning over my bed?

But before I can make any sense of this situation he takes a step closer to me, his eyes wide…looking like a frightened deer. Well I can't imagine how I may look if even he's that disturbed by what happened.

He holds up his hands as if trying to reassure me that he wouldn't harm me. I hear him speaking but his words seem to directly fly by my ears. I'm just able to make out parts of what he's saying.

He appears to be begging me, every part of his countenance showing me his wish to not be angry. He's telling me that I needn't be startled as there's something special between us, something we apparently talked about?! I'm not sure what he means.

I feel rage pumping through my body, even though the way he's reacting to my rejection- or whatever I did – looks truly real and makes me doubt my actions.

But just in this moment I can't be level-headed.

He's pleading and I'm actually screaming at him, putting my hands on his shoulders and bodily pushing him from my room, informing him that the only thing between us will be my fists if he doesn't move. And I really feel no resistance at all as I'm pretty certain that if he didn't want to leave I wouldn't be able to push him from my rooms as he's probably a lot stronger than myself.

His grey eyes and every feature of his face are begging me as I actively shove him through my door followed by the words that he should just get out.

I'm feeling quite relieved as I'm alone again and can't help myself to shut the door more forcefully than necessary but I don't care who we might have woken. I lean my back against it letting my head thump against the door and allowing me to breathe for the first time again since opening my eyes.

I try to catch my breath and to get some order in my emotions.

What did just happen? What was he…?

And just as this thought is running through my head I remember my dream, he wasn't just being too close. He kissed me. That was what the dream was about.

I feel my temper still flaring inside me, my thoughts being a rumpled mess, one chasing the other through the confines of my head. The feeling making me dizzy.

Slowly I walk to the chair standing beside my bed.

I can't just lie back in there and act as if nothing ever happened. No, I just can't do that. Not now anyway.

As I sit and stare into the nothingness of my room, I decide to put on some light. Maybe that'll help me clearing my head again. As I do so, my eyes fall on the clock standing on my nightstand, it's just half twelve. I must have only been asleep for about an hour. Dreaming for about an hour.

I settle my arms on my knees, sitting with my head in my hands, just closing my eyes.

What the heck did just happen?

I try to collect my thoughts while combing my hands through my hair. This always seems to help my think. But in this situation everything's just too much.

I'd love to just thump my head against the wall repeatedly until no thought would cross it anymore- only to have a moment of silence as this whirlwind of happenings makes me sick to my stomach.

What did I do?

Or rather what did HE think he was doing?

Why did Thomas…- Mr Barrow kiss me?

He did, didn't he?

Or was that just a merge of fantasy and reality?

No, I'm pretty sure; he was just leaning back startled as soon as I opened my eyes.

He DID kiss me.

But why, I wonder. Why would he kiss me?

I mean, I like him. He's by far better company then Alfred or Carson or even Bates.

But why kiss me?

It's not as if I wasn't puzzled about his behavior towards me before, but I thought he was just being nice. Maybe a little touchy-feely.

But no, apparently Thomas…-Mr Barrow, I remind myself – is lavender.

I really wouldn't have guessed because everyone I've ever met who was like this wasn't that…well, normal. Mr Barrow always appeared to be a real man to me.

I attempt to recap what happened…what he said. And I can't help but stumble over the rather…hopeless look on his face. He looked as if…well as if I've hurt him. As if I did something unimaginable to HIM.

I desperately try to push this aspect of Thomas from my mind.

He said that there's so much between us…the things I've said. Just as if he wanted to reassure ME…that everything would be alright. But really, would it be?

I can't help but work through my memories again. Did I say or do anything to lead him on? Giving him the feeling that I was reciprocating his state of mind? Well I bloody hope I didn't.

Step by step I can feel a calmness making its way back into my body. My mind no longer being a complete chaos anymore but being in an uproar nonetheless.

I try to be reasonable and sort this matter out once and for all.

Fact one: Thomas was in my room. Fact.

Fact two: he was kissing me. Rather certainly a fact.

Fact three: he was talking about what was between us.

Fact four: I'm disgusted by his behavior. Probably.

Fact five: I'm not lavender. Fact.

But the thought that maybe I was somehow responsible for making him think…well, perhaps he's just lonely, I try to comfort myself.

I decide to go back to sleep. Laying down in my bed again, closing my eyes, it's hard for me not to flash back to the dream. Even if it was such a nice dream.

Why did that have to happen? – Thomas' actions suddenly fusing with my fantasy.

And as I think about it, I can't help trying to analyze my dream.

Who was I kissing? Was it him? – No, that wouldn't be possible.

It wasn't as if I'd seen anything. I'm pretty sure that all along I thought it was a woman. Because there wouldn't be any alternative, really.

Perhaps I was kissing a nice pretty girl…yes, a nice girl, with soft skin…with soft skin and callouses on her fingers?

Well, she was probably a kitchen maid, always doing hard work. Yes, that must be it.

Surely couldn't have been him.

Why would I ever dream about Thomas…- Mr Barrow, I mean. Nothing there to fantasize about, that's for sure.

I'm rather convinced that this must be the truth, me dreaming about some beautiful kitchen maid smelling of nature. That sounds true, certainly wouldn't be the first time.

And just as I'm about to turn off the lights I finally notice where the thudding noise has come from. The book I've been reading just before falling asleep must have fallen off my bed. Who knows what would have happened if it hadn't fallen off. - But just as soon as this thought crosses my mind I'm already about to chase it off again.

Maybe I should lay off books before going to sleep in the future.

I really need to talk to Thomas tomorrow.

Yes, that's what I'll do. Talk to him. That'll certainly help.

And the moment I close my eyes, I see the haunted expression in his pale grey eyes again.

I pinch my eyelids closer just to make it go away and somewhere someone apparently sees the need to be nice to me again as the image slowly vanishes and sleep drapes its cozy blanket over my soul and my body, taking my hand and walking me calmly into dreamland.

The next morning I wake up and I feel as if I polished all the silver in the Abbey on my own. It's not a nice feeling.

And as I slowly dress for the day endless thoughts seem to flitter through my brain. What will happen today? How will Thomas act? Will he confront me about the situation?

Well it's not really helping; it's not as if I have a choice not to go down, so I just do it.

As I set foot into the servants' hall, most seats are already taken, so I let my gaze stray over the hall and choosing a place next to Alfred. I try to ignore Thomas' – Mr Barrow's look on me.

Maybe a good cup of tea may help my anxiousness. And as I indulge and try to push everything else from my mind he does it...

He's offering me toast.

I let a cold look linger on my face. Does he really think that this is enough? Offering me some toast?

Apparently my reaction – or rather lack thereof – makes Anna notice that something's going on. She's just too observant for her own good – or rather mine - because as soon as she comments on it Mrs Hughes and Carson smell a rat.

Thankfully, just this moment Ivy steps into the hall and I see my chance, complimenting her on her tasty looks this morning.- I nearly have to roll my eyes to myself. – Overcompensating much, Jimmy-Jam?!

But nonetheless I guess this is a proper reaction from a red-blooded male - after I say this I give Mr Barrow a meaningful look and maybe, just maybe, this may have been worth being reprimanded over by Carson.

He wants to hear about what's going on by the end of the day – well not from me if I have a choice.

I search Mr Barrow's eyes once again but seeing him bashfully and hurtfully averting his eyes doesn't quite leave me with the positive effect on myself I was hoping for. I guess my position in front of everyone else is rather clear.

Now I only need to talk to Thomas and everything will be off the table. Finally.

The rest of the day thankfully flies by without further incidents or confrontations between us. Well maybe that's because the only times I see Thomas, I ignore him.

It's after dinner and I'm the last one sitting in the servants' hall and playing solitaire – not very successfully, so I decide to throw caution in the wind and get it over with. It's not really helpful to push this conversation away until days will end.

Because of this I slowly make my way up to the man's quarters and my mind falls back in a scrambled uproar. My thoughts are flying in every direction and as I come to stand in front of his door I scold myself for not having constructed a battle plan for the talk to come.

I take a deep breath and straighten my livery one last time, more out of nervousness than necessity. I try to calm my body, my fingers already being clammy and shaky. I knock. The sound seeming to echo through the hall, making my nerves vibrate.

It feels as if he needs hours or years until I hear the resonance of his steps on the other side of the wood. Next thing I know is that he opens it warily and peers out through the crack making light stream into the hallway. The moment he realises who's standing in front of his room I see his eyes widen in uncertainty and maybe even distress. No, need for that, Thomas.

He's standing there neither saying nor doing anything, so I carefully push my hand against the panel of his door, making it open wider until I'm able to see more of him than an eye peeking through.

"_So, do I need to stay standing here or will you let me in?"_, I ask him with more spite in my voice than really necessary but this whole situation has got me on edge, without anything having happened, yet. Probably not a good sign.

Reluctantly he lets me in, the expression on his face fearful. _"Oh come on, don't look at me like that, it's not as if I've come to molest you"_, trying to lighten the atmosphere in the room. But the moment those words cross my lips I see him flinch painfully and I bite my tongue. Way to go, Jimmy-Jam. That's definitely not how you do it, I scold myself.

He's even more insecure now. Well who wouldn't sympathize? Sometimes it would be really helpful to think things through before they cross my lips. But well, what should I say, I'm impulsive and Thomas is about to experience some more of it.

He's standing in the middle of the room. His eyes stoically on the ground as if he doesn't want to look at me. He's fidgeting, playing with his hands, his right coming to rest on the leather glove of his left and always pulling the clasp of it open and closed. It's completely silent and I guess I'd even be able to hear the little taps of a mouse's feet running through the room. If there was one, that is.

I take a deep breath, eyes flying around Thomas' – Mr Barrow's room.

I'm not really seeing anything as I can't concentrate on anything but the awfully loud click of his glove. It sounds as if the click reverberates throughout the room, making me nervous as he seems to have quickened the pace he's doing it in. It feels as if I've been standing here for eternity when in reality it must have been only minutes.

At some point I can't take it his fidgeting anymore and abruptly take a step closer to him and take hold of one of his hands. _"Would you stop doing that?"_ I enquire with an annoyed sound to my voice. He suddenly pulls his hand away as if I've scalded him. I can't believe it. He acts as if HE'S the victim here. Somehow I feel as if he's trying to fool or anger me deliberately.

"_Give us a fag, Tho- Mr Barrow"_, I hope this will help and make his behaviour stop and calm us both a little. He looks at me apprehensively and eventually does as I've asked him. He goes to the jacket of his livery and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. As he comes back I see that he doesn't know how exactly to offer me one. I don't really see what his problem is. Until I realize - ahh, probably wouldn't want to touch me. So in the end, he lays the package on his nightstand, gesticulating that I should take one myself. Well that's clever, no danger of touching each other like that. But he apparently didn't think it through as a cigarette's nearly useless without being able to light it. The lighter still in his hand, he wants to go back to the nightstand to lay it there. But slowly his whole behaviour is getting just a tad too childish so I grip his wrist and stir it in direction of my face until I'm able to take the first drag.

Well, in retrospect this seemed to be a good idea to lighten the atmosphere. But somehow I overlooked a rather grand aspect of this situation. I haven't smoked in five years and as soon as this thought crosses my mind I feel the acerbic smoke filling my lungs and making me cough desperately. Perhaps if I die now, I needn't have this conversation with Thomas.

Once my body's back in the routine of smoking again- because, surprise, he wouldn't pat my back to help me breathe again- I note some kind of calmness floating through me, making my nerves settle down a little.

It's probably time to begin.

"_Sooo…"_ I let the world fill the space around us and can't help reprimanding myself. Such a great start of a talk. Very eloquent. I nearly have to scoff at my own foolishness. I scramble together all the courage I'm able to find again and look into his eyes. He looks a little more relaxed. Well at least my plan worked a little bit.

"_Why did you…I mean, why did you do it?"_ I ask him. As straightforward as possible. I can make out how he's straightening out his composure. Searching for the right words. _"I thought you felt like I"_, he answers simply.

That's not really an answer which is why I need to know more. _"Why?"_ and even though it's hard for me to put words to it I want to know the reason. _"Did I lead you on in any way?"_

His eyes shoot up, seemingly having found a very interesting floorboard under his feet. He could take the easy way out of this situation – blaming me, but no. He's shaking his head as if his life depends on his answer. _"No, no, you didn't…I've…I've just…with all the talking between us and…"_ he stumbles over the right things to say.

"…_and the way you didn't do anything about my…my touching…you. And the things Ms O Brien said about you…I just…I just couldn't help…"_ and his arguments are hanging between us. So I can't help but inquire. _"Couldn't help?"_

He takes a deep drag from his fag and eventually looks at me with a truth written in his grey eyes that I'm not ready for, yet. Or maybe won't ever be. _"I couldn't help letting myself…hope."_ And his last word is said with some kind of insecurity and care that I nearly don't hear him. His eyes are on the floorboard again and I see that it's killing him having to talk about this. He's a very private man and at the moment he appears as if the word "hope" stabbed him right into his chest, piercing his heart and making him bleed all over.

Well it's not as if all of this is easy on me.

I look at him and I see it. Hopelessness. Mr Thomas Barrow who is always groomed immaculately is now standing before me, his pale skin having taken on a pallid colour, his dark hair hanging limply into his forehead, a scowl on his face.

And somehow I can't help but feel the hurt in him as well. If I didn't know it any better, I'd dare to say that he looks broken. But just the moment this thought invades my mind, I chase it away again. It's not as if I have any power over him. Making him feel like this. No, it's not so bad. Everyone hopes from time to time. And such hopes are sometimes true and sometimes they are destroyed. This hope of his apparently was destroyed…by me. I don't like that thought.

Well he's a grown man, one day or two and he'll be over it. I'm sure of that.

In this moment his words make me realize something. _"Did you say 'the things Ms O Brien said'? Why would she have to say anything about me?"_

Thomas- Mr Barrow shakes his head as if to clear some cobwebs having found residence there and begins to answer me, head lowered. _"She said that you are always going on about me to Alfred, and that he was getting rather annoyed with it."_

"_I did never talk with Alfred about anything like this"_, I say, maybe a little too enthusiastic as I see him flinch at my forcefulness. _"Sorry, I just mean…I never talk to Alfred if I can help it…And especially wouldn't do it if I did have a crush on someone – which I don't"_ I close my statement.

The optimism that flickered in his eyes for just a second is gone before I'm able to blink. Way to go, Jimmy-Jam, break his heart even more with your thoughtlessness. But it's not as if it's my fault, I reassure myself. How can I know what he's thinking about? And that he's wanting something like this from me?

"_I'm sorry about leading you on-"_ I begin but he soon crosses my words with his own. _"No, Jimmy. It's not your fault. I just…I wanted to believe it… And I effectively searched for every sign which could mean that you'd like me...as well. I wanted to believe Ms O Brien."_ He ends his statement in a whisper and I can't help trying to explain myself.

"_I certainly would have told you off about…about the touching, I mean. But Ms O Brien said, you'd get angry and make my life here hell if I didn't do as you'd like. I really didn't…didn't want…that."_

"_Did you really think that I'd be like this?"_, he asks me with a little smile shadowing his eyes and I can feel the weight on my chest lift a little, making me able to really breathe again.

"_Well, I didn't know you, did I?"_ I concur. _"And what should I have done, anyway? Push you away? Or tell Carson? Imagine, it would have been a nice way to make myself be liked in a new place, wouldn't it?"_

I grin at him, but the seriousness on his face is back. _"Did you tell him? Carson, I mean?"_

I shake my head in a disbelieving manner. _"Why would I? We are both grown man and not two children fighting over a toy and running to mommy to cry about it…No, it's none of his business. And I certainly won't make it his"_, I close my statement with a special finality to it and smile up at him.

"_Okay, soo…I guess I'll go to sleep, now."_ And just as I turn around and already see my safe haven – the door lying directly in front of me. I hear him speaking again, now with a confidence that's always part of his appearance, normally. _"I'm sorry, Jimmy…sooo very sorry. Please…please forgive me."_

I turn around and my blue eyes seem to catch his pale ones. "_I know…Mr Barrow. I am too, but… I…I'm really…I'm not like that."_ I leave his room closing the door softly behind me.

Hoping that this chapter is finished.

And the next thing I notice is that my head hits the softness of my pillow, not knowing how I got there or what I did after entering my room. Everything somehow done subconsciously. And now all I want is sleep to take me away.

Away from trouble, away from doubts and grief. Letting my emotions wash away in the flow of my dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

**Touches**

Good evening, everyone!

I'd like to thank you for your support and can't wait to hear how you like this new chapter of mine.  
>I suppose this story will have about 16 to 20 chapters, just so you'll know that there's more to come.<p>

I hope you'll enjoy and write me a short line about it. Pretty please!

* * *

><p>Chapter 6 – Marching orders and surprises<p>

The next weeks in Downton Abbey were rather uneventful, no guest were coming to join us, so most of the time it was just the family upstairs and us servants downstairs.

Well, I guess the most exciting matter still was that Mr Bates was back from jail. Even though that's not really a thrilling thing for me, at all. But Anna seemed so pleased about this development, that most of the time she was even more cheery than normally and seemed to be just short of floating up and down the stairs. Maybe that's how you feel when the person you love most in all this world is back at your side after having thought the relation had no future at all. Perhaps, than I'm able to accept the way she's behaving a little better. Even if I can't imagine ever being so close to some, as it's not really a common thing while working in service.

But with Mr Bates being back again, not everyone seems to be happy about this situation. As there seems to be a big dark cloud hanging over some part of the Abbey. Well a rather small part of the house, namely Thomas – Mr Barrow. I really have to stop doing that.

In the last fortnight he's been perfectly neutral towards me and hasn't shown any kind of interest in speaking to or touching me…

…Thankfully.

But somehow he appears to be even more serious than normally as there's never even the flicker of a smile crossing his face. Perhaps that's got something to do with the fact that deep down he's behaving like a little child who didn't get the toy car it wished for. Me having destroyed this toy car for him. Well, or maybe he's just sexually frustrated.

Whoa, just where did this thought come from, I ask myself. Better push that idea as far from my mind and my body as it will go. Not wanting to think of THAT in any way.

But I couldn't help but notice his insecurities and the following morning as Alfred makes an insensitive comment of Mr Barrow needing to look for a new job, the pieces click into place. He was in fact afraid if the Crawley family would just let him go as soon as Mr Bates's back to work.

I'm not sure if his concern is justified as I've not been here long enough.

Would they just give him a reference and make him go?

I really don't think so. I guess he's been here for some time, even years, if I'm correct.

Somehow, I hope his worries are wrong. But who knows what will happen in a big house like this.

This evening as I walk through the hallway I notice two people talking in Carson's office, I take a step closer and hide behind the doorjamb, wanting to eavesdrop a little. Maybe I'll get some useful information.

Now I'm able to make out the two voices precisely, Mr Barrow and Carson.

Mr Barrow's demanding that Carson will tell him what'll happen with his position as soon as he knows, so that's he'll be able to start looking for something new. Carson – being the cold fish he is, answers indifferently that it'll be possible for him to say some days after he received his reference.

Now it seems to be cemented in stone. Mr Barrow's going to leave.

I don't think I like it.

Not because of Mr Barrow, why would I? But because it doesn't show any kind of gratitude towards the servants and their doing. Wasn't as if he did anything wrong, to get him sacked.

I'm still brooding about this matter as Thomas crosses the threshold, and I suddenly feel panic seeping through my body. Shit, why wasn't I more careful in spying.

Thankfully he doesn't say anything as long as we are within earshot of Carson and steers me with a gesture of his hand in direction of the man's quarters. I can feel my cheeks and ears heating as I'm certain that I'm in for some reprimanding from Thomas.

At some point he stops and I do so as well. He looks suspiciously around us and I'm afraid what he'll do.

His eyes flicker across my face and come to land on my forehead, not looking into my eyes.

I try to grab my chance and speak before he's able to do so. _"So, you'll have to go?"_

"_I guess you heard it, didn't you?"_, he asks rhetorically and frowns at my forehead. I hate when people do THAT. Talking with me without being able to look into my eyes. _"I'm sorry",_ I concur meekly.

He's touching the lapel of his livery as if trying to straighten something out. But there's nothing there. He looks as perfect as ever.

"_Why are you sorry? – For eavesdropping? Or I having to leave?"_ He inquires nonetheless.

I try to stand a little straighter than normally for his view to come across my eyes and I see him flinch slightly, averting them again as soon as he notices it.

"_Both, I guess."_ And even if I'm surprised by my own words, it's the truth.

A shadow of a smile crosses his lips, his eyes still looking haunted somehow. _"Thanks for making the effort of lying…pretending. I know you don't mean it. But thanks nonetheless."_ He makes a small pause and goes on. _"Don't let anyone else notice you spying. They probably won't be as generous as I…You will make a good butler, one day"_, he ends his statement with something pushing the sadness from his eyes, maybe pride?

He struggles a little with himself and eventually lets a small, but real smile, cross his lips and light his eyes. And for the first time in this conversation lets himself meet my eyes. Blue land on grey.

I can't help but mirror his gesture and as I see him raising his arms towards my shoulder I feel the breath I just took come to a sudden stop in my chest, making me light-headed. But as soon as he realizes what he is…was about to do he lets his hand drop again and turns around and goes. Leaving me standing in the darkened hallway of the man's quarters.

Somehow it hurts to know that he doesn't even allow himself to pat my shoulder. As there's nothing sexual or despicable about this motion. And a little part in the back of my mind wishes that he'd done it. Touched me.

Even if it would just have been a sign that everything's back to normal between us.

Well, maybe one day we'll get there again.

But as soon as this thought crosses my mind, I realize that it might just be days until he's not here anymore. Leaving me…leaving the Abbey, I correct myself, alone.

I make my way back to the servants' hall hoping that anyone, let alone Carson, noticed my absence.

And it was a good decision for once as any gloomy thoughts are streaming from my head as soon as I see Mr Molesley demonstrating the wonders of cricket.

It's five days later, it's a sunny day, the day of the cricket match. Or if you believe in the importance Carson assured as of…rather THE cricket match.

Thomas's still here, having gotten his "marching orders", how some might put it, just the day after our last talk. It's his last day at the Abbey and somehow I'm feeling rather wistfully about his departure.

His Lordship asked him to stay here, so he could support the team one last time. I thought my ears were doing tricks on me when I heard this. Who could be that standoffish and unrewarding? I can't really get my head around it. That they'll use him one last time for their own good. Bastards.

It's weird not to get dressed in my livery like every other day as the cricket uniform paints a stark contrast with their pale colours. I wonder if the other servants feel as strange in them as me as dark colours have always been more my forte.

After breakfast – where Mrs Patmore must have had the feeling she was catering to a box full of eggs – we make our way towards the pitch. I try to enjoy the warm strays of the sun brushing my face and can't help to stand still for a moment. Unfortunately I did this rather abruptly and as I'm just about to concentrate on the light voices of the birds in the trees around us, I feel someone running directly into my back, making my stumble.

From instinct I throw out my arms to make me not fall head and more importantly face first into the grass before the game even started. And as soon as I'm able to wonder why there wasn't any impact at all I feel that someone's rescued me. Someone's holding my wrist powerfully so that I'm nearly dangling in space.

Wow, who's that strong, I wonder.

And just the moment this thought crosses my mind, my eyes trail over my surroundings to thank my saviour for helping me. My feet find a solid position on the ground again and I'm softly deposited into the green grass. My thankful eyes come to land on Thomas who insecurely rights the cap on his head letting his hand trail through the dark strands of his hair.

Of course…Thomas's that strong.

Just as I'm about to thank him for saving me the fall Daisy's hurrying around me. Obviously it wasn't Thomas himself who'd bumped into me but Alfred who lies in a helpless heap some meters away from me.

I let my eyes trail over the mess he looks and can't help a giggle to cross my lips. My eyes are shining up at Thomas as I want to thank him but as if he's sensing my words, he shakes his head as if he doesn't want to hear it. He steps a little closer and whispers to me: "_Well, I did have to decide, who I'd catch"_ and with a humorous look marking his face continues his way toward the pitch.

This day could have started a loooot worse. I get up in high spirits and somehow can't wait for the cricket to start.

During the time I'm not actively playing, I take the time to analyse the others, the way they are playing and their clothing.

It's actually rather nice not to be only seen as servants but to build a team with his Lordship, Mr Branson and Mr Crawley. Even if I'm still angry with them for making that ludicrous decision concerning Thomas'. Letting him go like this, I can't help but scoff.

I let my eyes linger on Carson first. Not seeing him dressed up as always rather comes as a shock. And I guess the way he's playing is alright, but nothing special. For him the uniform should rather be black as it's really not doing his figure any good. Never would have noticed how round he is in reality. I guess a livery is able to cover a lot of things…even Carson. I can't help the grin stealing itself on my face and look carefully around me to make sure that I was really only thinking these things rather than speaking out loud. Everyone else is concentrated on the game, so no harm done.

The next player who goes up is Mr Molesley. Well there's not much to say about him. Would probably be too much of a compliment to describe the things he was doing on the field as cricket. Well maybe in his dreams he's a great player and even has his own league. Here he may have one too – loser league.

Alfred looks as if he's heavily invested in the game, probably wanting to use every chance for making a good impression. I might do so as well but I'd rather enjoy the relaxed atmosphere around myself than making hard work of this game. Alfred's beige clothing isn't that beige anymore since his tumble this morning into the grass. He looks more of a mix of different kind of greens and some brown. In combination with his red hair it makes up an horrendous look.

And the last players in this round Misters Crawley and Branson. I guess they are adequate players - they can throw, they can run and sometimes even catch the ball.

As soon as I hear his Lordship actually cheering, I quickly remember who I've forgotten. Well I better get used to him not being here anymore. But he's a very talented player and now I'm actually able to understand why Lord Grantham would actively make excuses for Thomas to let him stay on till this day is over. He cuts a striking figure – he's all concentration, talent and looks made up into one gifted player. And the way his dark hair contrasts with this uniform…well he's an attractive one. No point in hiding it. And I'm sure, one day he'll find the right guy who's up for his…his wishes.

I'm happy that my thoughts are interrupted by a break. Wouldn't do me much good with the direction they've taken, that's for sure. I better do some talking to Ivy or Daisy as this always allows me to clear my mind quickly. And that's just the way the day goes on.

Well but that's not everything that happened on the day of THE cricket match.

It was just after dinner as Carson asked me into his office. Suddenly I felt dread filling my stomach, a niggling feeling worming through my body. Well, what did you do again, Jimmy-Jam?

A minute later Thomas enters the office as well. _"Ahh, Mr Barrow, so nice of you to join us"_, Carson says coldly.

I see his eyes widen as he sees me already standing there, in a moments time his emotionless mask slips a little and I see alarm colouring his eyes. I return his gaze and inconspicuously shake my head to show that he's not here because of me. I notice his posture relaxing slightly at this realisation and his professional mask slide into place again.

"_So, I have some news for the both of you, I hope you don't mind me telling them in front of each of you. Otherwise I'd like you to speak up now, so that we're able to remedy this situation accordingly."_

Thomas and I exchange a look again and tell Carson that it's not a bother.

He goes on: "_Mr Barrow, his Lordship brought a matter to my attention that he wanted me to take care off. He asked me to inquire if you've found a new position, yet?"_

Thomas shakes his head slightly and I feel sorry for him. _"No, in fact, I didn't, Mr Carson."_

"_Well, well. Then you'll probably be happy to hear…"_ He makes a dramatic pause. _"…to hear that his Lordship has decided – because you did nothing wrong, and were very helpful in his game today – that he'd like you to stay on. Here, in Downton Abbey – if you'd be amenable."_

I can't help but let a smile cross my face and turn to my side to wait for Thomas' reaction. He appears impassive, his disguise perfectly in place.

"_Do you need some time to think over this decision?"_ Mr Carson demands.

And Thomas answers smoothly. _"That won't be necessary. But which position will I work in? Mr Branson's valet?"_ He asks with a hint of irony in his voice. Carson can't help but scrunch up the grey caterpillars over his eyes which may or may not be described as eyebrows. _"Of course not, you'll be under-butler."_

And that's about it. He pauses again. Maybe savouring his dignity and pride again. And goes on- his caterpillars still moodily in place, his forehead in lines and directs his look towards me.

Oh no, I'll be sacked, is the last thought scurrying through my head before he keeps on talking. _"And you James…" _His deep voice nearly making the floorboards under my feet vibrate. _"As you did very well on the pitch today as well as while servicing the family, his Lordship choose to make you first footman."_

Wow, I push a breath suddenly from my lungs. Relieved. One moment I think I'll be sacked and next I'm promoted.

"_Now, off with you two."_

As we rush from Carson's office, Thomas a few feet in front of me, I can't help but stop him.

"_Mr Barrow"_ I summon him and my hand reaches out for the sleeve of his sweater. Making him halt his steps.

"_Congratulations to your promotion. And I'm…I'm happy you are staying on."_ I try to reassure him with a kind smile.

"_Thanks Jimmy, to you too. But you needn't say this."_ He tries to brush me off, again. But I'll not accept it.

"_I'm not just saying it for your sake…I mean it. Would be awfully boring down here without you."_

I try to make up my mind if I already said to much. But no, I think, for once, I'm doing the right thing.

"_Will you come back down to the servants' hall?" _I ask him with a hopeful look. I see him fidgeting with his left hand. Maybe he hurt himself during the game, I wonder, but don't voice it.

"_No, thanks. It was a hard day. I'll get up to bed. Good night, Jimmy"_ I see him massaging his hand one last time and with that he's off without me being able to say it back.

What a day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Touches**

Hey guys!

To sweeten your start into a new week, have some Thommy.  
>Enjoy.<p>

* * *

><p>Chapter 7<p>

The last few days have been rather busy for me. Not really unusual. But the fact which is rather special is that I'm not bothered by it in the least. Maybe the day has come and I'm finally growing up. Well let's see how long it'll last. For the next week some guest are going to stay at the Abbey, some Count of something. Didn't really concentrate on all the details.

And as always old Carson is in uproar and because of him everyone else needs to be as well. Servants are scurrying in every direction trying to straighten the house for Whatshisname. With all the chaos going on and the effort being made one could easily think that the family's living in a barn and they are about to welcome the King coming to visit. But nooo, this house is a huge household where it's ALWAYS clean. Sometimes I really don't understand the expectations of people.

As I'm just crossing paths with Anna hurrying around me I see her laden with linens and as I am in a good mood I actually offer to help her. A doubtful look is crossing her eyes as if I want to make fun of her.

Wow, I'm not THAT lazy, am I? - That she actually freezes in scepticism the one time I'm actively trying to be nice?

I'm looking at her expectantly, hoping to get an answer rather today than in a few weeks. I incline my head a little to spur her on, making her snap out of her…state.

Of course, she accepts. And because of this I find myself weighed down with about twenty-five sheets or even a dozen more. They are rather heavy and I try to make my way cautiously down the stairs. The problem is that I'm only able to see white in every direction I look as the linens are effectively obscuring my vision.

One step at a time, I make my way down, scolding myself for never having counted the stairs. But I'm not that pedantic, even if it would have been helpful in this situation.

I hope no one sees me doing this.

I really wonder how Anna does it? I mean, she's a woman and not as strong or good oriented as I. As I reach the last landing before being downstairs I take a deep breath again and try to motivate myself – nearly got it, Jimmy-Jam. And it's hard not to let these motivating thoughts be bullied by some meaner ones, telling me: That's exactly what you get when you're doing more than necessary and try to be nice.

My brooding is interrupted by the teasing voice of Thomas.

"_Whoa, wait a second, where do these sheets want to go with you James? Are they trying to abduct you? If so don't be afraid of them. Just stump two times with your foot on the ground if you need help and I'll save you."_

I can nearly see the grin plastered on his face but as I'm not one to turn away a good joke I do just as he's asked – stomping my foot on the board of one of the steps. His feet are resonating on the stairs coming towards me, I try to go forward but somehow the fabric of my trousers catches on a nail or something similar. It makes me lose my balance and I take a tumble down the stairs.

On instinct I try to turn around – why I can't say in retrospective.

The next thing I remember is lying on the ground of the stairs. I'm afraid to open my eyes, pinching the lids together in fear of any injury I might have sustained. After some moments I realise that sadly I can't keep doing this – avoiding reality. So I softly open my eyes and just as carefully try to move my toes, every one of my fingers, and just as I'm about to continue my inventory on my legs Alfred comes out of the servants' hall. His eyes are landing on my pitiful figure and he freezes. _"Do you need help?"_ He manages slowly.

"_Just hold your breath and go away"_ come the scathing words from…under me. Oh my goodness I fell ONTO Thomas. I can't believe it and in this second would love to seep into the ground from shame - never to be found again.

As this thought flits through my brain I realize that while thinking about it I still didn't move an inch. And with this I scramble to my feet, suddenly not caring anymore of aggravating any possible injury I might have sustained.

My blue eyes dart over Thomas' form, looking for any way I'd be able to help him. Not finding any, I'm just standing there uneasily. _"I'm soooo sorry, Thomas. Did I hurt you? Do you need help? Do you need a doctor? Should I call Carson?"_ I ask him in fast succession.

He looks irritated. _"First it would be helpful if you'd drop those sheets and help me up."_

And only just in this moment I realize that in all the surprise of the tumble down the stairs I didn't let go of these damn linens. I feel a searing heat creeping up my neck taking possession of my ears and cheeks. I drop the sheets without a thought and hurry to grab Mr Barrow's hand to hoist him up.

He stands shakily and rubs his hand over the back of his head, bringing it back in front of his eyes as if to see if he's bleeding. Out of instinct and without accepting any objection from him, I grab his shoulders and spin him around, slightly standing on my tip-toes I let my hands card through the black pomaded strands of his hair to feel for any wound. There's a small bump forming just over his neck, but being the careful person I am, I examine the rest of his head as well. Better to be safe than sorry.

He coughs lightly to get my attention again.

Grabbing my arm with his gloved hand and he's actively stirring me away from his hair. _"You know, that I'M the one with a medical training, don't you?"_ He asks seriously and I see that he seems to struggle with his composure somehow. I wonder why…

Well he HURT his head because of me, might be reason enough, Jimmy-Jam.

I still can't seem to stop touching him, brushing off the front of his livery which got dusty from the floors – well apparently it isn't as clean as I thought. But again he ends my actions, this time by taking a step back.

My mouth is dry as if I've just swallowed a sheep and I can't make my mind work in forming an apology for my clumsy behaviour – once again.

"_I…I…I..."_ and this is all I've got_. "Did you fall on your head or was it me?"_ Thomas retorts dryly. Not that this is helping my speech in any way which might have gotten lost between my worry for him and him brushing me off. I hope it's still lying on the ground somewhere where I'll be able to find it later on.

I look at him, my eyes wide open. My lips quivering but no noise's coming out. Speechless. I think that's got to count as a first for me.

But eventually I see a slight grin forming on his face and Thomas is actually taking pity on me. Letting me off the hook. _"Come on, grab those sheets and let's get ourselves sorted out." _

He steers me into the servants' hall, it feels like he's poking a finger into my back but I may be wrong.

Thomas indicates to me to just leave the linens on the table and sit. And this I do. I sit at the end of the table which is the place closest to where we're standing at the moment. I try to observe every feature of his face and notice some kind of realisation flitter over his expression, his face falling a little. The careful mask he's normally wearing has been absent for the whole time.

Thomas takes a chair and puts it closer to mine. Now he's doing it. Letting his gaze fly over me as if trying to detect something. He takes a deep breath and begins to speak, he looks uneasy.

"_Are you okay?"_ His voice is so soft that I nearly don't hear it. _"Did you hurt yourself falling down the stairs?"_ He inquires some more. I'm still not able to answer, letting one of my hands graze my thigh as a way to raise some kind of composure. Is he going to sack me? The thought alone hurts my head, and the fact that he'd be the one doing so would be even worse, somehow.

His eyes follow my hand and a slight redness covers his cheeks. Even though my brain is short circuiting me at the moment I try to analyse him. He seems…embarrassed? Does he have inappropriate thoughts in a situation like this? Is that the only way for me to stay on? I ask myself and feel dread filling my tummy.

My eyebrows shoot up the second he reaches out to touch my hand and carefully lets his thumb stroke over the knuckles of my fingers. I try not to flinch to make my emotions obvious but the instant this thought crosses my mind I notice that it's not necessary to wince. The impulse just…doesn't appear. He reaches out again and takes my other hand which is lying on the seat beside me.

Apparently I scraped my hands on the grounds and they are bleeding.

Didn't even notice that in the scare of me having injured Thomas.

Silently he lays my hands down again and leaves the room, I don't follow him with my gaze but hear his steps moving away. Just seconds later he strides back in with his hands full. He doesn't say a word and just shows me that it's necessary to clean the wound. Sensibly he starts dabbing the blood away with some cotton he required, making me cringe as soon as the alcohol comes into contact with the rawness of my skin.

Next he appears to put some ointment onto them until he finally wraps them with some gauze, doing the same with my other hand. When the gauze is tucked in tightly around my right hand I see him hesitate lightly. As if some kind of battle is going on inside him. I tilt my head a little trying to understand what's going on inside him. Short of turmoil his gloved hand comes together in a tight fist- him using that much force that I anticipate to hear the cracking of his knuckles. The sound never comes.

Instead the rough skin of his thumb tenderly – where did this word come from? – strokes over my fingers one last time until he lets it drop suddenly as if scalded. He stands up just as soon and mumbles something about him informing Mr Carson that I should only do light duties for the rest of the day and disappears.

Blinking repeatedly I feel like some kind of bubble just burst around me and launched me back to reality. Still feeling lightheaded and as if my head was padded in gauze – not my hands – I make my way up to my room for a nap. Maybe that will make me right again.

Meanwhile, the sheets lay forgotten on the table of the servants' hall.

This evening, because after waking up from my nap, it already is evening, I feel a little more comfortable again and more like me.

I still don't want to contemplate what Thomas must think of me now after I've been so clumsy the last weeks – him being the person in the spotlight along with me. I only hope that I didn't hurt him seriously in the process. Thinking about the bump on his head covered by soft hair again and the way he flexed the fingers of his injured hand after the cricket match.

I change back into my livery and make my way down the hall, and down the stairs in direction of the servants' hall. Somehow I can't help but realize that I'm taking these steps more carefully than normally. As I'm about to enter our dinner room where a loud buzzing of voices can already be heard I feel a sensation like dread settling into my being. I hope I'm not in for too much of trouble for having neglected my duties after my fall.

I take my seat at the table coming to sit beside Alfred. Quickly I'm able to note that my fear was not needed as Alfred begins a one-sided conversation with me about the "fabulous" – his word, not mine – chocolate mousse Mrs Patmore made this evening for upstairs. And I've never been so happy before to hear him drone on endlessly about cooking.

Apparently Thomas spoke to grumpy Carson and like this spared me a punishment for my foolishness. Thanks for that, dear Thomas, my savior once again.

Just as Ivy and Daisy come in to serve our dinner Alfred suddenly changes the direction of our talk to our half-days. "Would it be possible for you to change your half-day with me? It's my dad's birthday and I'd really enjoy visiting if you don't mind swapping. Yours will be only a day later" he tries to persuade me. Normally, I'd make a sarcastic comment asking how he could ask me something like this just two days before said birthday. But somehow I'm not in the mood to be grumpy or mean to him – maybe I DID hurt my head – and like this I tell him that I didn't make any plans yet and couldn't care less. And yes, that I wouldn't mind taking his day off instead. A huge grin covers his face and for a second I hope dearly that he doesn't try to hug me out of elation.

Meanwhile Ivy must have paid attention to our words as she concludes that we share our half-days, and asks me in front of everyone if I'd like to go to the cinema with her. And again, normally I'd have just said no, not caring about her feelings or everyone around us noticing. But I'm still feeling generous and decide to spare her the embarrassment. She beams at me and dreamily leaves the hall.

I guess this will be the week of me doing something good.

I let my eyes trail along the table to note if anyone might like to comment on my ordeal but everyone's immersed into their own conversations. The only negative reaction to this occurrence seemingly being my own. Well and apparently Thomas' as well as he quickly averts his eyes the moment mine settle on him. Nonetheless I'm able to notice a small sorrowful look crossing his features.

Well good work once again, Jimmy-Jam, I remind myself.

I guess I can't make everyone happy today, my knuckles suddenly throbbing again as if in remembrance of a touch.


	8. Chapter 8

Touches

Hello everyone!

To spoil you on Valentine's Day, here's a new chapter of Thommy fluff.  
>I hope you'll like it.<p>

* * *

><p>Chapter 8<p>

Three days later, it's my half-day. The day of my meeting with lovely Ivy – as I try to motivate myself. Well maybe I'll be surprised and it's not going to be as boring as expected. It's been some months since I've last been to the pictures and even longer when I didn't spend my day off on my own.

It actually might be a nice change and who knows perhaps there's something likeable about Ivy I've overlooked until now. The second this thought crosses my mind I'm already doubting it seriously.

After dinner I make my way down in my "normal" cloths and join her in the servants' hall where Ivy's already awaiting my arrival. Slowly we make our way into town. Either she's talking about the new dress she's gotten for her birthday and which she has to show me as soon as possible as it's sooo lovely or droning on about some nice ribbons she saw on her last half-day – it DOESN'T get more interesting and I can't help to feel slightly annoyed with myself for having agreed to this date.

A date?

Is this what this is?

I don't know if I like this thought but well on the positive side maybe I'll be able to get a kiss or something more out of this ordeal after all.

That's at least a small matter letting me look on the bright side.

When we arrive at the cinema I treat us to some popcorn and pop and thanks to our great timing a few minutes after we're settled into our seats the film begins and lets me breath again. No more talking for some time. Heaven.

Until she decides to lightly put her head on my shoulder. Shouldn't this feel nice? – I analyse myself.

But in this situation "should" is actually the keyword as I'm not feeling any different than normally.

Though I begin to feel a little caged as soon as one of her arms slings itself around mine keeping me in place. And I can't help but think of a snake. Not really the pleasant thoughts I expected.

Eighty minutes later there's something new to talk about, thankfully. The movie was rather entertaining which leads to a discussion on this issue and the fact that Ivy thinks herself in love. Happily, I'm not the recipient of her passions. But apparently the man in the picture named Rudolph Valentino has stolen her heart for all eternity. Good for me as at the moment I can't see this "relationship" between us going anywhere else but home.

Just before we reach the driveway to the Abbey Ivy stops suddenly, touching my arm to halt my steps as well. I can't help but look expectantly in her direction.

Her eyes are gleaming with the light of the moon and her cheeks are flushed a little as she begins to speak: "Jimmy, I can't wait one step longer to tell you…thank you sooo much for agreeing to accompany me to the movies. It was such a perfect evening. And what made it even more special for me was that you were a real gentleman throughout. I had a lovely time."

And as the last words cross her lips she inches a little closer to my body, grasps the lapels of my jacket and despite her crush on someone else let's her lips softly cover mine. I'm not sure if she's ever kissed before so I take the lead and move my lips carefully over her warm skin, let them linger on the corner of her mouth for a second and as I move away from her again, let my eyes shine warmly at her.

She seems elated and skips happily forward with the words "aww, THE perfect gentleman" streaming towards the sky.

I clearly hope that love will feel differently because apart from it having been a nice kiss, there's no special reaction from my body - no tingling, no heat in unexpected places, no butterflies.

Well on the bright side: at least I made her happy.

And with this I follow the fairy who's jumping home light-heartedly.

As we are back in the house the servants' hall's already vacant as it's after 10 o'clock already. I wish Ivy a good night as she smiles dreamily after me.

Good job, Jimmy-Jam.

Even if it's not love – you made HER damn happy today.

As I'm about to change for bed a soft, nearly hesitant noise pulls me from my daydreams. After a moment the knock's resonating a second time, this time more certain.

I make my way towards the door unconsciously crossing my fingers at the thought that hopefully it's not Ivy coming in to continue our evening.

Well there's only one way to find out…

I open the door and my eyes land on the back of Thomas as he's already leaving again.

"Mr Barrow" My voice calls out for him carefully before my head is even up with the action itself. He turns back and looks somehow sheepishly in my direction. "Do you want to come in?" I ask him without second thought but the shaking of his head indicates that he doesn't.

I wonder why.

At this a sudden flashback flickers in front of my eyes – him leaning over me as I've just woken up, my lips warm where his just resided seconds before, his eyes wide with shock. And I can feel a light blush beginning to cover my cheeks.

Oh…of course…that's why, I realize.

He comes a little closer but doesn't cross the threshold. His face is drawn with uncertainty again for a second as if he's already sorry for having come at all.

"How are you feeling?" He asks with curiosity colouring his words. At first I think he's asking about my date until he gesticulates towards my hands. "Do they bother you much?"

I shake my head no. "Thank you for taking care of me so patiently. And I'm still so sorry. I hope I didn't hurt your head…and your hand seriously. Maybe we should make sure and call for Dr Clarkson…-" and my words appearing not to find an end until he interrupts their flood.

"No reason to be sorry about anything. It wasn't…

well, it actually was your fault

but you weren't doing it deliberately, so you needn't apologize for it. And my head's alright, thanks for asking and I…" He looks kind of puzzled. "I didn't hurt my hand in any way. So, no need to worry. Why are you asking, anyway?" He adds with serious interest.

"Well, I saw you massage it repeatedly in the last weeks and I just thought it might be bothering you. As this was the one you caught me with as I stumbled on the cricket field. I was just…just (worrying? – no, I can't tell him this) – I just couldn't help but notice it." I finish lamely.

His grey-green eyes widen slightly at my words and he hurries to end my doubts "Don't bother, really, my hand is as right as rain" he tries to reassure me, doing a poor impression.

Impulsively I correct him: "no, you are not, I can see that you are lying" I tell him passionately and the instant the syllables cross my lips I grasp what I just did. My brain's already reprimanding me for being so stupid.

He's my superior after all!

Thomas is just standing there his mouth open, gaping. Oh oh, I believe I'm in for some screaming. His height changes a little as he seems to…

Well I'm really surprised by what I'm seeing…he seems to…he actually seems to REALX his composure.

For some minutes it's completely silent and as I make use of this stillness I see his jaw flexing desperately.

Somehow as if to search for some shelter I must have subconsciously drifted further into my room.

And the next moment, he consciously follows me in. His eyes are flicking over every feature of my face as if trying to evaluate me. I'm not sure if he's successful as I'm rather uncertain of what's going on inside me. My stomach is in turmoil and my heart's beating in an uneasy rhythm, making me feel as if…well I guess as if a kitten is running through my stomach – jumping and chasing around and bumping into different spots.

Thomas' eyes finally settle in on mine for only a second until he does something to astonish me.

His right hand reaches for his leather glove obscuring the injury lying underneath. He slowly opens the clasp as if to allow me some chance to veto his actions in disgust.

But I don't, wanting to see what's going to happen next – will he slap me with his glove?

With a cautious move the leather slides over skin and with this the side of his face pinches painfully. And next he's holding it out to me – with his palm up. As if in invitation.

I can't help but wonder as it looks like a normal hand. There are some darker parts to his palm but otherwise I'm not able to make out anything different.

"I may have sprained it in trying to break your fall" he tells me honestly. His words chosen sensibly and his voice kind in intonation.

He begins to deftly massage the rising leading to his thumb and he's closing his eyes in pain. I can't help but flinch as well as I see how uncomfortable he is.

My eyes linger on the different landscapes of his hand still trying to make out his war wound. My fingers glide tenderly over every indentation of his palm, covering every inch once. With a slight pressure I try to lessen his discomfort as I saw him doing it just seconds before.

As the tips of my fingers encounter a somewhat different texture on the back of his hand I suddenly realize what I'm doing.

Subconsciously I must have reached out in tandem with my thoughts. I feel embarrassment crawling through my body. But somehow Thomas doesn't resist or do anything to stop me.

And because of this my hands continue their journey delicately.

Out of the corner of my eye I try to make out Thomas' reaction to my doings. His eyes are closed, high in concentration. But as if he's able to feel the weight of my regard, pale orbs come to light as his lids open slowly.

His voice is rough with some kind of emotion and I begin to wonder if I ever encountered it in our time together. "Go on!" he demands simply, giving me the assurance I lacked just seconds before.

Turning his hand around my eyes fly over its back, trying to memorize every detail there is to it – my own hand simultaneously following my thoughts. My finger twitches lightly before trying out the texture of his war wound as if afraid to cause Thomas unnecessary pain.

I'm fascinated by the things I see. I've never encountered a hand that special and beautiful – as the bullet's left behind a bumpy scenery of pale, scarred skin. The tips of my fingers seem to have developed a mind of their own as they continue their examination and glide over the scars till they reach his wrist.

A sudden gasping noise makes my head shot up, searching Thomas' face for a reaction. It feels as if this noise has made a part in my mind come loose, making a memory drop in front of my eyes. I wonder how this happened as their seems to be no obvious connection between both events.

As an answer my right hand glides over his pulse point making it beat rapidly, until it comes to settle on his wrist bone. I let my thumb put some pressure on a special point just at the beginning of his hand and look up at him expectantly. "Does this feel better, Thomas?" I ask him in seriously and the way he scrunches his brow shows me that I'm right.

"There's this special point in your hand with which you may lessen the pain if it gets too intense, I guess." I tell him intelligently as if it was blatantly obvious. The confusion's still clouding his eyes and I take it as a request to go into detail.

"When I was little my mum loved to knit sweaters and socks and everything else you could knit. She did it for me and everyone else she knew. I just remembered her sitting in an armchair in front of the fire massaging this special point in her wrist to lessen the pain when she's overdone it once again.

Which happened all the time.

She was always like this. Once she's put her mind to something she wasn't able to stop before being finished and happy with the result. She'd go on and on and on – even if it put her in pain."

The moment I realize that I've been droning on for some minutes I feel a blush creep up the back of my neck. Just where he's touched me once.

This thought only makes it worse though.

Meanwhile Thomas's been eerily silent and has been looking serenely into space.

This spurs me on, somehow. "Well maybe…there's something…" I let my words trail off and gesticulate for him to take a seat while an idea is forming in my mind.

Out of the corner of my eyes I notice indecision in his posture as he's closer to the bed than the chair. Seeing the penny drop in the straightening of his back, he goes to the chair and sits down, finally, while I open seemingly every cupboard and every drawer there is in my room.

I can't help but make a small victorious "yay" as soon as I've gotten the things I'll need.

I scramble the two things in my hand and make my way over to Thomas.

Suddenly I wish he'd have chosen the bed to sit on as I realise the meaning of his choice, only leaving one option for myself. "May I?" I ask, pointing at his still ungloved injured hand.

He nods uncertainly as there's no way for him to guess what I'm about to do.

I slowly kneel in front of him, seeing his eyes widen funnily and a rosy tone beginning to cover his cheeks. And I can't help but notice that it's a good look for him. His breathing seems to be elevated as well and his eyes are as dark as I've never seen them before…well, he's probably nervous about what I'm going to do to him – I reassure myself.

Next I put the safety pin I gathered once from Anna between my teeth and take a hold of his left hand. I grab the material of one of my white bow ties and put it over his wrist bone. I secure the cloth with the thumb of my right hand and tightly wrap the tie around the beginning of his arm. Eventually I fasten it with the safety pin from between my lips and turn his hand gently around for one final time. I nod at myself, being happy with the result of my creation.

My eyes search his to give him an expectant look. As he doesn't react at all I try to spur Thomas on. "Sooo…like this the pressure of the cloth should lessen your pain a little as it supports it. But I guess it would be best if you would spare your hand any heavy lifting."

Somehow an unbelieving gaze flashes over his face followed by his typical "Thomas grin".

"I'm impressed" he comments dryly and at his positive reaction I can't help but beam up at him from my perch, feeling a warm tingling in my tummy.

He takes a deep breath and stands suddenly, surprising me a little. "Thank you, Dr James" he says playfully.

I'm still kneeling on the floor, turned around to pay attention to his departure. He opens the door and is gone without further ado.

"Oh and Jimmy?" I turn back around to look at him. "Next time you decide to take a tumble, just inform me of when and where beforehand…and I'll be there." And as if on an afterthought he adds softly "sweet dreams" and closes the door behind him.

I sit there a little longer until a nasty feeling of pins and needles in my legs makes me jump up and continue my routine I started before his visit – getting ready for bed. The thoughts are scurrying through my brain. Somehow this conversation with Thomas seems so unreal to me.

As I'm about to lay down a sudden realization makes my insides throb.

After all these encounters with him touching me and making me uneasy in the past –

Now I'M actually the one doing the touching.

I'm trying to wrap my head around the meaning of this – sadly, making me fail spectacularly.

Well off to bed then.

* * *

><p>Please leave me a short comment. =)<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

Touches

Happy Monday guys!

As a little celebration for my birthday today, let's have chapter 9.  
>And I feel the need to say it again: you guys rock.<p>

Enjoy.

* * *

><p>Chapter 9<p>

Some weeks later Alfred and I are just in the boot room going about our designated task as he suddenly stops what he's doing and I can feel his gaze lingering on me. At first I try not to let it bother me, but that only works for about a minute until I can't bear it anymore. "What?" I ask him with an annoyed undertone painting my word. "Do I have something on my face?"

My angry tone seems to shake him out of his daydream. He blinks rapidly and continues preparing a boot of Mr Branson's. Until he stops again. "Why is Mr Barrow so fond of you?" He asks with definite interest, his brow covered in a frown. He looks at me as if I know every truth in the universe.

As there's been a cold trickling feeling streaming through my body, I try not to show my reaction to him. "Whatever do you mean?" I desperately try to sound bored but am not really sure if I'm succeeding. Well it's Alfred, must be enough.

He takes a small breath as if to ready himself for a looooong story. And I can't help a sigh escaping my lips at this perspective. "Well, I just couldn't help but notice that with you…he's different. Any time someone dares to let a bad word about you drop, he's at the person's throat in just a second and as soon is either wanting an explanation or covering your back with some reason or another. It's just…well, I just noticed it. As in the time I've been here, Mr Barrow's never even been nice to anyone, let alone kind and friendly."

Alfred looks at me with a puzzled look and I can't help but realize that this way he seems even more dopey than normally, even if I'd thought that wouldn't be possible.

"Well, I guess I'm a likeable person. No-one can resist me", I reply with more confidence than I'm actually feeling at the moment but I can't help to keep my charade up. Letting his impression of my being arrogant and narcissistic strengthen.

And with that I don't pay him any mind anymore and go back to my work, letting him feel that this discussion is closed for me.

Even though in my mind, it's another matter, completely.

I can't help but wonder. If even Alfred noticed, what would everyone else think?

And even more important WHY was Thomas doing it?

I'd have thought that he wouldn't go to any length to defend me in front of anyone else after we came to our agreement after the…the kiss. I thought he'd just get over it – given some time.

And then everything would be back to normal.

Well, but HOW exactly would normal be?

Did I ever experience him being normal?

As Alfred mentioned, normally, Thomas is always snarky and sarcastic, rarely or rather never having a nice word for anyone.

But that's definitely NOT the Thomas I got to know, is it?

He won't just flick the switch, will he? Well he probably would have done so by now, if he'd wanted to.

And somehow I hope that won't be the case because I rather like the way he's behaving towards me.

Always nice, sometimes a little distant – but that's only logical. He must have found someone else to…to feed his urges and that way he doesn't feel the need to be close to me anymore.

I guess that's just fine…I should be happy that he stopped his touching…and I am.

I'm quite happy with how the situation between us worked out. Could have been a lot worse.

If he really was like Alfred described it, he'd be mean to me, maybe even would have gotten me sacked after I refused him.

But he didn't, thankfully.

And I think this speaks highly for him. He could have construed any reason imaginable to get rid of me. And he didn't.

This solidifies my believe in him. I think Thomas is a really nice person. Maybe the other servants just didn't act their part and because of this he reacted likewise. Was probably never his fault. And while contemplating Thomas and his character I continue polishing and readying the shoes standing on the table in front of me.

Yes, I believe in him.

Later that evening, at our servants' dinner, I'm able to see what Alfred's talked about and how fitting the image is I've got of Thomas over the short time I've known him.

We are all sitting down, the first of us have finished their meals and are just waiting for Carson's signal that we are allowed to go up to our room or to enjoy some much needed time off- just as Carson begins to clear is throat, signalling that it could be some minutes, or even hours before we are free. Every head at the table shoots up and we are all looking at him expectantly.

"I've come to notice that there's some wine bottles missing and I'd like for the wrongdoer to be honest with me and confess – till tomorrow morning at the latest" he says with his loud, scolding intonation. I feel my mouth go dry and my eyes shoot down towards the table as if not to attract any unnecessary attention. I really thought no one would notice a bottle missing as there must be four different kinds with about twenty bottles each standing in the cupboard unattended.

My heart's beating faster and my hands start to break out in sweat.

Blimey…why didn't I think of Carson counting the bloody bottles as part of his compulsion to control any and every thing in this house?

The next thing I'm able to make out over the rushing in my ears is Thomas speaking up. His demeanour's cool as an icicle and the sneer on his face's perfectly in place. "I'm sorry, Mr Carson. It must have been my fault. I was fetching one yesterday for dinner upstairs and somehow two others were standing rather shakily on the shelve. They fell down and broke." He makes a small pause. "It must have slipped my mind to inform you, I'm sorry."

I can't help the widening of my eyes. Why is Thomas confessing to something he didn't do? It was my wrong-doing! Did he see my reaction to Carson's question and stepped in because of this? – If so, I really have to pay closer attention to my facial expressions if he can realize that something's going on so easily.

"Well, Mr Barrow" Carson's booming voice nearly makes the cutlery vibrate on the table. "Your behaviour should be exemplary in front of the footman and hall-boys. I guess you have to keep working on that aspect" he tells him scolding. Thomas only nods his head and concurs with a small "I will". But his face is showing no sign of being sorry at all.

Thank God for Thomas.

He's saved me once again.

With this the butler stands up and dinner's officially finished. People are streaming from the room and Thomas is making his way outside, probably to calm down while having a smoke. I wait a few moments before deciding to follow him. I can't let it stand like this, I at least have to thank him properly.

He's sitting on the table in the courtyard, his feet propped on the bench relaxed, enjoying his smoke as if he's been sitting there for hours already. I follow his idea and sit beside him.

He's not acknowledging my presence at all and I feel a tiny sting in my breast at this.

We sit there for some minutes and watch the last strays of the sun being swallowed by the trees of the property. It's eerily calm around us and I can't help but relish the atmosphere.

I don't remember when I was last able to enjoy the sun going down in quietness with a person I really like close by. Probably last just before the war, when everything was still alright at home, peaceful and as it should be. Well this time's gone for a long while.

But in this second, I'm fine nonetheless and feel as comfortable as I haven't in over eight-teen months, being able to push every thought of mourning my parents' loss away, just for an instant everything's fine.

The moment I remember why I'm actually sitting here – that there was in fact a reason I joined Thomas – I try to form a battle plan of some kind. But in the end I dismiss it again and begin to speak as impulsively as always.

"Thank you" The words are tumbling from my mouth and they seem to resonate through the quietness of the night, as darkness has settled around us.

We are sitting in the darkened courtyard with only the glow of the small lantern of the servants' entrance shedding some light. Thomas's still not looking at me but I see a small smile beginning to cover his face, "I don't know what you mean" he says convincingly. "If anybody asks me, that's just the way it happened." And with those words the smile finally reaches his eyes and he's openly grinning at me.

"Thanks nonetheless" I feel the need to repeat my words, to show him their importance. He nods solemnly.

I can't help but let my curiosity get the better of me and keep on talking. "Why are you always doing it? Helping me, I mean? Even Alfred noticed that you are extra nice to me and are going out of you way to defend me if anyone is criticizing me. It's not that I mind it…or anything.

I don't. I just can't help but wonder…for the reason…

Because I always thought that with the day we came to…to our agreement…that all this would be finished…would be a matter of the past" I let my words trail off into nothingness and look at him, seriously bewildered.

He takes a deep breath and lowers his head a little before answering me- as if to shield some part of him, in me not being able to make out the expression in his eyes. "You once told me that it'd be boring here without me…well I'm feeling likewise. I think I'd miss you. And I certainly can't let Carson sack you for such a meaningless thing like this. You really have to improve your ways and hide your secrets more discreetly. I could read your reaction at the dinner table like an open book."

Thomas looks at me as if contemplating to go on, his tongue poking out a little, but eventually he just shrugs his shoulders as if to answer a comment inside his head and leaves the court to the silence again.

Somehow I can't overcome the emotion that he's evading the direction of my question deliberately. But I won't accept this and keep on poking. "Thanks for that, I guess. I really like you, you know. Because I think…I'm feeling kind of…special, I guess…when I'm with you. I always hear people talking about you being nasty and scheming all the time and not having a nice word for anyone. But in all the months I've been here…you were always nice to me. And I kind of like that…It's as if…as if you are making an effort for me…but you needn't do that…

As I'm rather certain that I'd like you either way…" I grin at him, a look of challenge clouding my eyes. I won't let him off that easily.

"But just as I know this, I also wish that you'd stop dodging my question. Because there's absolutely NO CHANCE for you to get out of it this time! I'm not that easy, Thomas.

Somehow, I'm still puzzled over the things happening between us. I can't wrap my head around you." I admit seriously.

"Well, this must count as a compliment" Thomas says offhandedly and searches his pocket for the pack of cigarettes.

"You are special to me as well, well, but you already know this, I guess" he adds silently. "I've got the impression that you are a very private person, rarely letting some important or personal information about yourself drop.

And then you go and surprise me…telling me this memory of your mum, which must be really precious to you.

Well, let's just say that you make it hard for me not to be nice to you. That's the reason I guess.

He just started on his second fag and holds one out to me as well. I can't help but accept, hoping for it to clear my mind in some way and to calm my shaky nerves a little. "Can I ask you something personal?" He agrees. "And will you answer truthfully?" I feel the need to make sure as I'm not about to accept any excuses anymore.

"Well let's hear what you want to know and I'll see if I want to answer you at all, truthful or not."

I'm feeling slightly uncomfortable to breach this subject again. It makes my stomach coil just to think about it but the need for answers is stronger. "I just can't help but wonder…why did you kiss me that evening? I know we've already talked about it…but somehow…there are always just more questions instead of clearness forming in my head. I mean why? Why did you do it? Wouldn't it have been easier to talk to me and see…" I need to stop suddenly as my throat's as dry as a tiny creek under the relentless summer sun.

Eventually, I fetch all my courage and am able to speak again. I mean, what should go wrong? I've already started it and I'll just have to wait and see if he'll tell me his reasons. I just hope he won't get angry with me as I hate that. "Well, to ask and see if I'd be amendable…to doing stuff…you know" and I try to wiggle my eyebrows to get my meaning across. My face must have taken on the colour of a tomato for the time-being, as I feel insanely embarrassed to even think about it. "Because the way you DID it, I guess, you just put yourself in unnecessary danger and in the end you had to look for someone else… to do stuff."

I end my stream of words and look at him expectantly and discomfited at the same time.

Juts this sec I see Thomas snapping back into "Barrow-mode" and that means that his emotionless mask is back in place, even covering his pale eyes from my scrutiny.

At the moment I'd really wish for the moon to light his face but no such luck. His demeanour's cool and indifferent again, but there's a muscle in his jaw, flexing, and I can only hope that the volcano's not going to erupt and spit lava. I just keep hoping that I won't get burnt.

After an eternity, which I used to count the bricks of the yard, he gently begins to speak.

"I'm not really sure…why I didn't talk with you about my suspicion…no, let's rather say my hope.

I just thought after our conversation in the servants' hall about being different…and well…

Maybe it was done unconsciously….that I thought in doing it my way…

I'd get a kiss out of it, at least…

But I'm only guessing as well…it's a question that's been frequently crossing my mind since…well…

And to answer your other question: I didn't…look for anyone else." He says slowly and the rapid beating of my heart tells me – truthfully.

Thomas's staring into the blackness in front of us. The gleaming of his cigarette illuminating his mouth and face in irregular intervals, letting me see the strict linens surrounding his mouth and eyes. He's concentrating heavily. Maybe not to give too much away? Or to not put me off too much? I'm not sure if it's either.

I take a deep drag of my fag and continue my asking "Why didn't you? Wasn't that your goal for me as well?" His features are reacting with something akin to surprise , he lets his eyes cross mine, just seconds later a scowl has found residence on his face.

"I wouldn't" he answers passionately and a little too loudly. I can feel my heart skipping a few beats at seeing him being nearly aggressive over getting his point across. "And it wasn't."

Until he goes on, more calmly. "Maybe it'd have been my goal for us…to get physical…

But not then…"

"No, I definitely didn't come to you that night with an expectation to seduce you.

That just…I don't know…wouldn't have felt…right, I guess."

"And I'm not even sure what else I'd have liked to do this evening."

"Well, no, forget this. That'd be a lie. I KNOW…But I definitely wouldn't have slept with you…that's just not…that's just not how it'd have worked for me with YOU."

"I like you…I really do…and it would have felt too much as if I was rushing you…and us

…into this…situation." He makes a longer pause in his monologue.

"That's just NOT how it works for me…" He repeats. "IF I have the choice, for once…to do it right…then…I just…" He's stumbling over his words more and more and his face is contorted as if in pain. "I'd have made sure…that you were doing it for the right reasons…for me…

Well and I guess that you've made up our mind…that it was your decision…in YOUR power to decide for or against" me, I think "it. I wouldn't have wanted it to be me just pushing you around... I would have wanted you to be sure…

Isn't that how it works, Jimmy?"

Thomas asks me curiously and I'm not sure if he's expecting me to answer or not.

Meanwhile, his words are making my head spin furiously and somehow I'm only more confused that before I started questioning him. I can't help but tell him so. "How what works? I always thought that you were just looking…for some…well pleasure…and sex…That you were just frustrated and…needed an outlet for it." I admit uncertainly, my voice loosing it's strength while forming these words. And I can't seem to kill the endless energy coursing through my body, making my feet bob on the bench under them.

Thomas is actually laughing at me now, but it sounds dry and bitter. The way it's echoing through the night makes me flinch a little until it's absorbed by the stars and the trees. It's really not a nice sound. And I'd really like to take back my question if it makes him react with such unpleasant feelings.

And suddenly his mood is completely transformed as if I've thrown a switch in him.

"Are you tricking me?" He looks at me with nastiness destroying his face. "Are you –seriously- making fun of me? Do just want me to say it again?"

"...or are you honest with me? Do you really not know?" -the last parts are said as if on an afterthought.

I hope my face is telling my story, because at the moment my mind isn't able to form any coherent thoughts and I'm just able to shake my head uncertainly. Apparently he makes out my confusion as I see a softening in his eyes.

"I didn't just want to sleep with you, you fool" He reprimands me - my eyes are forming huge orbs as I follow his words.

"I wanted…I wanted everything with you…" I can hear a shaky intake of his breath. "Everything." The syllables nearly too shy to stumble of his lips but I'm able to make them out nonetheless. He sounds defeated.

"And I mean really everything there is.

And I don't just mean sex. I wanted companionship…to be your friend" Goosebumps are starting to creep up my legs and my arms as I follow his words. "…just being around you…being there for you…spending every moment with you – good or bad. When you are sick or nasty or childish or kind, everything….Just everything."

Somehow in the last seconds this word's earned a new meaning in my personal dictionary. From just there like everything else. It now stands on its own pedestal. Wanting to be noticed, to be acknowledged, to be different. And I can't help but think that until all eternity – EVERYTHING – will unequivocally be related to Thomas.

"Just sex…pffft." He spits it out as if it was a ridiculous image.

He scrubs his hand over his face and I can't help but wonder if he's still having my tie wrapped around his left wrist, moving in rhythm with his pulse. The thought alone is making me hot and cold, somehow. As the truth of what he's been saying seems to be too much for me to grasp.

I can't think about the meaning of all of this at the moment.

Because of that, I nearly flinch as he softly steps off the bench and comes to rest in front me.

His eyes reflect the light through unshed tears.

He smiles nonetheless, his breathing shallow. Thomas steps a little closer until he's standing right in front of me and reaches out his hand.

He softly covers my cheek and suddenly I'm feeling overwhelmed. "Jimmy, don't you know…"

He pauses and my heart's nearly beating out of my chest from excitement and uncertainty and I'm sure that he's able to hear it where he's standing.

He's just SO close. My vision becomes blurred somehow as I see him choosing his words carefully before they cross the space between us in my direction. "I'm…I'm not just frustrated…I've been…

No, I won't lie…

I AM in love with you, you idiot…" His shoulders slump as if a weight's been lifted. He's giving me a mournful glance, his posture painted by defeat and I can't help but mourn the loss of his warm skin covering mine as he goes inside.

Mr Barrow's in love with me.

He still wants EVERYTHING.

* * *

><p>And to sweeten my birthday evening – why don't you leave a comment how you liked it.<p>

Pretty please!


	10. Chapter 10

Touches

Hello everyone!

Thank you soooo much for all your lovely comments and wishes. I had a great birthday.  
>I hope you'll like this new one just as much.<p>

Have fun.

* * *

><p>Chapter 10<p>

I'm standing in a field full of flowers. Everywhere I look I'm surrounded by different colours. I feel as if I'm swallowed by a rainbow. There's a feeling of calmness all around me. The only thing I notice…is that it's so quiet. There's no hectic rush, no noises. Just quietness. Which is only disturbed by the gentle buzzing of an errand bee doing its work or by the chirping of crickets hopping around me.

My feet are bare and the tender touch of the grass beneath my skin makes me feel homey and safe. It's hard to describe. I somehow know that I've never been here.

But I don't care about this unimportant fact. In this second facts are superfluous. I don't need them - just being happy in my own body, the sun warming my face.

I let my hands grace the top of the leaves of grass and flowers, sometimes grabbing one and bringing it close to my face to take in the smell.

In the distance I'm able to make out the outline of a grove. Instinctively my feet take me in its direction, eager to know what's awaiting me there.

Every step I take in its direction takes me closer to new details to light my eyes; the green of the leaves is nearly sparkling, emitting an outer-worldly glow. I can see delicious looking fruit wearing down the branches with their weight. I cross the trees until I come to stand in a clearing.

I slowly turn around my axis – wanting to take in every detail of this beautiful place. My only companion's the chirping of the birds sitting up in the trees. I decide to relax a little, giving my body some time to enjoy my surroundings. I brace my back against a tree trunk and let my head sink against it. A light breeze is ruffling my hair and I can't help but close my eyes.

Calmness's everywhere.

I can't quite put a finger on the situation I last felt so peaceful and collected. This must be heaven.

My breathing's serene and contentedness is streaming through every cell of my body. A small smile has found its place on my lips, forming small dimples.

Eventually, I'm roused from my relaxed state by the noise of a small branch snapping in two. I'm not alone anymore; I'm sure, even without opening my eyes.

When curiosity gets the better of me, I slowly open the lids of my eyes as if not to scare the calmness away. But the things my senses encounter make my breath catch in my chest.

I'm slowly standing up as if to arm myself for any possible outcome.

He's slowly coming closer; his pale eyes are flecked with darker points making them stand out even more. He's making his way towards me – I stand frozen, every muscle stiff, my breath coming out gaspingly. My posture's rigid and I couldn't escape – even if I wanted to.

He stops some mere feet in front of me, looking at me with interest in his eyes. And while fear's coursing through me, I can't help but admire him. He's magnificent. The intensity of his eyes, the way he struts along confidently. No one would doubt that he's superior.

To everyone and everything.

The pattern of different colors painting his fur – there must be about a thousand different types in it – there's white and black and brown and grey and everything there's in between. He's beautiful. He's licking his teeth as if to remind me of the imminent danger he could mean to me.

And remind me, he does.

My blue eyes land on his pale, grey ones and I can't help but notice that they widen in realization. Instinct grabs my insides and twists them and somehow, the ice covering my bones has melted slightly and I begin to run desperately.

I don't want to think about what he'll do to me now that I'm actually trying to race an outgrown tiger through a forest. But I can't keep thinking as my body needs all its energy to spur me on.

I don't imagine I've ever run this fast.

I run and run and run.

But in the end, I know deep in my unconscious mind that I won't be able to escape him. I'm trapped.

And the second this thought crosses my mind, I feel an indescribable weight encountering my back and throwing me to the ground. I can feel two paws digging in my back and then everything goes black. And I fall.

As I come to I slowly open my lids, not being able to form any clear thought. What happened?

I feel as if I've been run over by an automobile.

My back's hurting and I've got a crick in my neck. I feel a warm breeze covering my face and the softness of the grass under my body. My hand pushes into my hair to put some pressure on the point of pain and happily I realize, on doing so it lessens slightly.

I slowly raise my head as to not aggravate my muscles any more than necessary as I see this peculiar eyes again. And suddenly every memory's back. Of course, I wasn't hit by a car, but by a huge tiger, bloody hell.

But I'm still alive somehow; I can't help but notice contently. Well maybe he likes to play with his pray before killing it. This outlook makes my stomach drop and nausea coursing through me.

What did I do to earn this?

I dearly promise that I'll be a good boy in the future if someone takes this bloody tiger away, please- I silently pray to a deity I don't believe in.

I press my eyelids closed as if it will shield me from every danger. Or make the tiger disappear.

I can't help my lids shooting up when I feel the softness of fur touching my face. My eyes are probably playing tricks on me because the thing they see can't be real. There he is, laying in front of me, on his side, one paw just an inch in front of my eyes, making them seem even more massive than they probably are.

His head is thrown to the side as well and he looks at me…well, how should I describe it.

Well, if a cat or a tiger could pout – this is probably what it'd look like.

He looks at me expectantly and moves his paw again, this time until the softness of his fur encounters my nose, gently – I notice astonished. His body is scurrying over the ground and as I don't react, still, he moves even closer. He crawls so close to me until his cold nose comes into contact with my neck.

Now every moment, and he'll quit his playing and kill me.

I'm quite certain.

But no vicious move happens. He pushes his head against my throat and the wet slick of his tongue makes me flinch slightly.

There's a new noise surrounding us.

He's…he's actually purring.

Just like the big cat he is, he rolls on his back as if to demand my attention. Scratch my belly, play with me…I guess that what's he'd say I he could talk. I slowly get up on my knees and reach out a careful hand towards him until it sinks into the silkiness covering his skin. It's a heavenly feeling and apparently he likes my action as the purring only intensifies in its level.

Somehow I wish that I had a ball of wool or something similar to play with it. But at the moment he seems to be quite content. I let my hand glide over his belly up to his face and scratch behind his ears. His big red tongue coming out to lick my hand in thanks.

And in the next moment I'm laying on my back, covered by a huge cat on top of me and rubbing its body against me, his head nuzzling my throat. Now, that I've overcome my fear - everything I feel is excitement and satisfaction.

I've never felt anything like this. He's calm and fluffy and so loveable. With this thought my eyes close and I'm falling into a content limbo – the last things they encounter are pale grey eyes and a delicious looking apple hanging over our heads. Even if I don't want this situation to end, it does.

The warmness of the sun tickles my nose and I enjoy it. Sleep's still weighing my bones down with its heaviness and I need to stretch them out a little. A yawn escapes my lips and I scrape my hands through the unruly mess on my head that's called hair.

But I'm not caring about it. Everything's just feeling so nice. Reality can stand back for a second longer for me to enjoy myself.

I feel something small abruptly landing on my stomach and can't help a small yelp to cross my lips, my eyes shooting open and a heartfelt laugh being wafted about by the soft breeze.

There they are again, the two things I saw before falling asleep. A delicious red, green apple is lying on my chest, ready to be devoured by me. And pale grey eyes following my every move, grinning down at me, he's ready to be devoured as well.

I answer the smile with one of my own as I bite into the apple and it tastes just as fantastic as it looks, sweet with just an edge of sourness - making my taste buds explode. He lies down beside me again. His head coming to rest on my shoulder. Black strands are grazing my ear and I can't help but feel at home and loved. The scrunching of us eating our apples is the only sound slicing through the quietness around us.

As soon as we've finished eating, his gaze lands on mine and he's taking in every feature on my face. Normally, such close scrutiny would make me uncomfortable but here, in this moment, I just feel treasured and happy.

A mischievous look clouds his eyes and I'm able to feel his warm breath covering my lips, he stops just centimeters in front of my face, wanting me to meet him halfway. And I do.

Without second thought my lips graze his and a gentle hand covers my neck, gently combing through the short hairs there which he seems to love dearly.

His other hand is lying directly on top of my heart, until he can't seem to keep his composure anymore and fists it between the buttons of my shirt as if to hold onto it.

His head leaves mine for some second to take in the much needed air. But I'm impatiently awaiting the return of his lips and air's not as important. I roll us around and slightly bite into his full bottom lip until we are united in tenderness and love again.

I really can't wrap my head around what he's doing to me.

He's simply driving me insane, my mind's in turmoil and my stomach lies in knots.

I'm feeling heat coursing through me and I never would have thought that there could be an emotion as satisfying as feeling him react likewise. I feel his hardness pressing against every inch of my body. It's as if I'm on fire. And I love every second of it. I moisten my bottom lip until he claims it again and my tongue slides hotly against his. I think I have to stop for a second or otherwise there will be forest fires.

I reluctantly push him away an inch and open my eyes softly to enjoy his features. He's never been more beautiful to me – his cheeks flushed with desire, his lips glistening in the sun and his eyes sparkling with his affection.

That's what heaven must feel like, I'm sure.

My body sinks boneless into the soft green grass again and he follows my example.

For a moment there's just our slowly calming breaths and over us the leaves of the trees rustling lightly.

This is perfection. I just stare into the sky until the outline of Thomas crosses my vision again, for a second all I see is his black shadow in front of the sun and I'd happily go blind with this being the last image to encounter my eyes.

His voice's still rough from excitement, and I'm certain that this is my unrivaled favorite tone of his, as he speaks: "Let's stay here forever, Jam." A gentleness in his eyes telling me that he means it. "Love you" He adds as if on afterthought when he lowers his head again to place a loving kiss on my cheek and pushes his head on his place between my shoulder and my ear, taking a deep breath, his arm tightly wrapped around my belly.

And in this moment the best truth is – that with him this will NEVER be an afterthought.

"That's how life should be!" I agree with him.

We cuddle even closer together until we can't make out anymore where his body ends and where mine begins. Not as if this is of any importance at all.

And like this we enjoy this instant and hope it'll last forever.

* * *

><p>So guys, get out your books on dream interpretation and<br>MORE importantly please take the time to leave a small comment. =)

I wish you a nice weekend.


	11. Chapter 11

Touches

Hello everyone!

Here I am again with chapter 11 for you to get you through the rest of the week in direction of the week-end.  
>Thanks for all your lovely comments.<p>

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter 11<p>

This morning, like every morning, I woke up, through the knock of one of the hall-boys at my door. The second my eyes opened to greet a new day, I knew that something was different. I felt refreshed and couldn't help but wonder why.

With a peculiar certainty I knew that the dream I've just encountered has changed something important inside me.

What has it been about? I try to spur on my memory. But everything comes back blank.

There's just a huge emptiness covering all my thoughts concerning this dream.

Somehow it is as if I'm trying to catch a snowflake. And just the second that I'm able to make out its form in all its clearness, it's already gone again.

This feeling is really annoying to me and even though I've just had a great night sleep, I'm already grumpy and brooding again.  
>Well, I can't change the situation at the moment. And with this sudden realisation, I try to get ready to start the day.<p>

Just as I'm leaving my room to go down to have breakfast Thomas is coming from his room. With the speed of a shooting star I remember our conversation yesterday evening and at seeing him look uncertainly in my direction, I can't help but smile a little up at him. Just to try and clear his obvious doubts and apprehension.

Thomas loves me.

This thought is still thundering through me like a massive summer storm.

And even though I'm not returning his feelings, it's nice to know that someone close by thinks so highly of me.

And somehow what makes it even better, is that Thomas is THAT person.

His gaze strays over mine and he offers a real smile of his own, suddenly not as uncomfortable anymore.

"Good morning, I hope you've slept well?" he asks me with his deep voice and I can't help but notice that in the morning it's even deeper and with a rough edge to it. The sound of it somehow making a shiver creep through my body and from on sec to another, everything, every detail from my dream, is back. The tiger, the delicious apple and everything I did with Thomas comes back to me in a rush of information.

I suddenly feel rather lightheaded and instinctively put out my arms in the small hallway to make sure that I'm not going to fall. A blush has sneaked up and is now probably covering every inch of my skin. Bloody hell.

Why?  
>Why in God's name did I dream something like this?<br>Was it because of his confession yesterday?

Or did this stand in no relation to each other? - Maybe it was just brought on by my deepest thoughts? Or even wishes? Somewhere I heard that this is all dreams are about.

But, no… - No, I can't keep thinking about something this foolish. My head's feeling as dizzy as if it is wrapped in gauze. And that's really not a nice feeling at all.

Thomas, who's apparently always paying attention to my every move, noticed my weird behaviour and has taken some steps closer to me to stabilize me. His hands are kindly touching my shoulders to keep me upright and balanced.

But his touch isn't really helping - a hot and cold feeling suddenly everywhere in my body. He's that close that I'm able to feel his warm breath fluttering over my face and in reaction I feel the need to close my eyes. God, is this man seriously trying to kill me? - THIS is definitely not helping my problem in any way, my breath coming out a little faster, only intensifying the light-headedness coursing in my body.

My lids fly up for my eyes to meet his in a moment of dread and I can't help hoping that overnight he didn't just perfect his abilities in mind reading.

As I'm not really coming forward with any explanation about my curious behaviour, he fishes for information. His head is tilted in an inquiring way and his grey eyes are trying to read my face.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asks with concern painting every of his words leaving his lips. "Yes, I'm okay, just feeling a little dizzy so soon after waking up" I try to reassure him and take one of his hands, still covering my shoulder, carefully, and with a small touch of my thumb over his knuckles to reassure him some more, let it drop softly.

He does not believe me. I can see that very clearly in every part of his composure.

But well, I'll just have to accept this, I guess.

As I can hardly go forward and tell him that him touching me so soon after an illicit dream, makes me feel faint and has my body in an uproar.

- I'm pretty sure that this would send a completely wrong picture of how I'm feeling deep down.

As if to end the issue, I softly reach out to grab the sleeve of his livery and spur him on to keep walking to breakfast.

We've just taken two steps as he halts me again and looks at me worriedly. His gaze now hanging uncertainly just over my shoulder. "Because of yesterday..." he starts slowly and stops as if to find the right words inside his mind.

What is he on about? Does he regret that his honesty towards me?

Did he only say so in the spur of the moment and doesn't really feel this way? My heart clenches as if some hands have taken it and are squeezing it painfully tight, until he goes on.

His pupils now grazing every feature of my face until they land on my blue ones.

"Is everything alright between you…and I?-"

I can't help but wonder about his wording, but as soon as this crosses my mind, the answer somehow presents itself to me. Of course he'd say it like this…you and I…as there certainly IS NOT an US.

He goes on carefully "I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable. But I just...needed you to know the truth, not some shenanigans your mind made up about me."

And as soon as he says the last part, the right corner of his mouth turns up slightly at his words' irony, for a second ignoring the seriousness of the situation.

And at seeing him being himself once again, I can't help but lighten up as well.

I poke my tongue at him playfully and drag him further across the hallway, not wanting him to realize my concern as well. "Don't worry about it. Wouldn't want you to get more lines on your old face than you've already got at the moment" I jibe back in good humour.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see him nodding solemnly, the humour gone as soon as it appeared. I scold myself for paying such close attention to him and try to push every thought of this, of him, from my mind.

There's breakfast to have, people to serve, work to do. And just the second before we enter the servants' hall I let my hand drop from his sleeve, just now noticing that it has been there in first place. When did that happen?

The day's rather busy which I can't help but delight in as it keeps my mind off turning things around all the time.

Most of the family's going to leave soon for Duneagle, only Mr Branson staying behind as he obviously wasn't invited. And everyone's hurrying through the house to get the last tasks finished before they depart. Which hopefully means some much needed time off.

And the next time that we're all gathered in the servants' hall I urge Alfred on to ask even that question. But typically Alfred, he caves under the close scrutiny of grumpy Carson which makes me step in to bring our wishes forward. As an reaction he lifts one hairy caterpillar of an eyebrow and looks at me seriously, inquiring if someone forgot to pay me.

I really don't understand the direction this conversation is taking and look at him in a puzzled way, out of the corner of my eye; I'm just about able to make out the outline of Thomas' face who's working hard on not laughing out loud. Bastard for making fun of us.

The next second, Carson destroys our hope by telling us of our duties for the next weeks – which are to polish the silver in EVERY room of the Abbey during the absence of the family. And I can't help but cringe at the thought alone. Oh no, this is going to be so dull. Why did they have to leave again?

In this instant I'm desperately hoping that out of some miracle the trains not going to work or something similar to make the Crawley's stay. As the consequence of their leaving already grates on my nerves.

Although deep in thought I notice the scolding look Mrs Hughes gives the grumpy butler in his reproach and can't help but let my hopes linger in the base of my body.

And just this afternoon, I discover my love.

I LOVE Mrs Hughes. As she's got Carson to agree to everyone going to the fair in Thirsk the next day. This sounds amazing. Some possibility to clear my head, I hope.

And I really can't wait for the afternoon of the fair.

Maybe I'll even meet someone nice to distract me. As in this moment all I really NEED is a distraction.

But well as I'm further thinking on the matter, maybe I'll just get deliciously wasted.

Yes, that's probably the more sensible and easier solution to all my troubles.  
>As there's no thing I want more at the moment than just to forget about tigers and dreams and...and more importantly...certain under-butlers.<p>

The day of the fair greets us with heavenly weather.  
>And I really can't wait to get drunk as the last days have been rather tense with all the polishing of the silver, such a dreadful task, and to make it even worse, my situation concerning the under-butler. As I really don't know how to act appropriately with Thomas. I don't want to hurt him in any way, but can't feel the way he does. Because of this I made myself a little scarce in hope that after the fair, my thoughts would be a little lighter again, a certain weight hopefully lifted off my shoulders.<p>

But just before our leaving he destroyed this thought with all his might as he asked if I wanted to scroll the grounds of the fair with him, together, a hopeful look lingering on his face.

The problem was that I wanted to escape just THAT, the contact with him, being near him, thinking of him and his feelings towards me, as it was really grinding my insides. I felt so bad as I had to tell him NO and that I'd like to have some time for myself, but that maybe the next time…

I couldn't speak further as he was nodding understandingly and was already leaving my side. His behaviour reminded me of a puppy who was just reprimanded and had those watery eyes and drooping ears. And it was slowly breaking my heart. The good atmosphere of some needed time off destroyed in the blink of an eye.

Now as soon as we've arrived at the fair and Thomas's made true of his promise to buy everyone a pop I couldn't help but notice his posture still laden with sadness, even if he did his best to put his emotionless butler mask back in place. But somehow, with the time I've come to know him, I've learned to look behind it and read the little details in his composure nonetheless. I tried to divert my gaze from my personal elephant on this fair, Thomas, and took a look around the grounds.

As my eyes landed on an ad about a tug of war with the possibility to win some money, I simply couldn't resist the chance.

And even if I'm desperate for a drink, the gambler in me can't help but be delighted at this prospect, as it combines a good win with some bodily workout to avert my mind and my thoughts from all the insecurity I'm encountering at the moment. Happily, it turns out everyone's amendable to trying our luck at winning me some money.

Thomas's standing close by my side and I can see the doubtful look covering his face and I comment on it. "Hope it won't be too rough for you, Mr Barrow" and for once I pay attention to addressing him correctly.

He looks at me with a challenging look shining from his eyes. "No danger there, I like it rough, Mr Kent" the last two words nearly a whisper, only for my ears to make out, his teeth deliciously biting the side of his lip and his brow nearly reaching his hairline in provocation.

And like most of the time, he wins this contest between us as at the tone of his voice a shiver runs through me and my gaze flies to the ground in front of us. Making me notice the devilish grin on his lips nonetheless. Nasty bastard.

With good luck, we win the war and as a thanks I decide to pay a drink for everyone.

As everyone else is still in intense conversation about our victory, I carefully steal myself away to begin my very own party. And just the thought of it makes me breathe more lightly again, as if a weight has been lifted off my lungs…and my heart as well.

This last comment of HIS metaphorically the last straw to get my tower of snowflakes to fall over and nearly bury me beneath it.

Just after receiving the money from my gamble I decided to divide my winnings, some money for the others as a thank you, some for my very own pleasure this afternoon, and some I hid in the tear of material in my flap head, maybe for some bad times to come, just in case.

And there it goes, one beer, two beers, just as I'm enjoying the third one I see our girls uncertainly standing in front of a stall undecided if they'd like to try their luck.  
>And as I'm feeling quite happily thoughtless that second, I decide to pay for them.<p>

After this I make another round over the buzzling grounds of the fair.

Two or three or it could be a thousand other beers seem to follow.

And somehow slowly all the noise and the music and the people everywhere I look are making my head spin. But there's no disturbing sentiments whatsoever.

I desperately need some quietness, because now as these despicable thoughts are gone, everything else is sooo disturbing and annoying, making my nerves scream in agony.

I follow a trail leading onto some clearing of trees until I cross a small bridge as my eyes land on a hidden spot under some bigger bridge, just the place I'm looking for, it's quite and lonely – just the way I want to be this instant.

Just as I'm about to go there to sit or sleep for some time, I feel someone behind me.

I can't say for sure who it might be as my senses are rather slow at the moment.

I feel someone grip my sleeve and spin me around. A distressed and disoriented "whoa" flies from my lips as if it will tell the person off.

It doesn't. Of course it doesn't.

And as my vision clears again I squeeze my lids together to make sense of the things in front of me. I need just a second too long to notice it's Thomas standing in front of me. My elephant has followed me.

Well is rather crouching in front of me as I've apparently landed on my backside by the quickness behind his moves.

I can't help but lower my head against the bricks beside me as soon as I notice that it's just him and I close my eyes in bliss. Sitting's soooo nice. My words are tumbling over themselves as soon as they leave my mouth "Thomsss come ssssit with me. Sssssso nisssse." I pet the place beside me but he doesn't do as I want immediately. I feel his skin covering my cheek and my lids flow up again. "Are you feeling alright?" he asks concernedly. His hand feels nice and because of this I just nod at him and close my eyes again. Just want to sleep now and maybe enjoy the moment.

I feel him sit beside me, his hand leaving my cheek, a grumpy "nooo" flows from my lips at the loss of his touch.

And as soon as he's seated beside me, I let my head drop on his shoulder which is just a little too high to be comfortable for me. In reaction to this, I sharply poke him in the side with my finger and mumble "down" and he does as I've asked and lowers his shoulders. "Thissss ss nissse." I comment and let myself bask in the warmth of his side. Just perfect. I'll stay here forever.

Sadly , forever only last about some minutes, I can't really say how long exactly as most of this I can't recall clearly. Things I remember are that later on the quietness of us under the bridge was destroyed by shouting, something about vicious somethings being cosy.

Well it isn't much I remember.

Just the second I feel alarm run through Thomas' body and hearing him whispering a sharp "Jimmy", I'm as good as awake again. My name's never sounded so dangerous before and it made my lids open in a rush.

Thomas's drags me up in a standing position and I saw why he is concerned.

Two thugs are coming closer and are throwing nasty comments around, most of which I've never heard before and never want to again.

Thomas is softly pushing me behind him as if trying to cover me with his body, before he tells me to run as fast as I can.

But I won't. Partly because I am still rather drunk and can't react as quickly as he wants me to. And partly out of companionship. Maybe both as I won't leave him to fight these two blokes on his own. He wouldn't stand a chance.

And like this it begins.

I only recall that they moved more quickly than us and soon I felt a searing pain coursing through my side where one of them has hit or kicked me. And soon my face and everyplace else in my body was hurting. I threw my fists and kicked, probably without doing much damage but it was the only way I was able to react.

And as soon as I heard a groan filled with pain from my left I fought back even harder.

Thomas. They shouldn't hurt him.

And after endless moments of struggle, with this last thought on my mind my head suddenly slammed against something hard and blackness began to surround me.

Later on I come to the feeling of something warm covering my cheek, and I ask instinctively "Thomas?".

The voice that answers me is decidedly male and rough, but definitely isn't Thomas'.

After finally opening my eyes I come to notice that it is that of Dr Clarkson. "He'll be alright. He'll be little worse for the wear but he'll live." He must have understood my comment as a question. Thankfully, because otherwise there might have been questions about my motives.

I can't help but dread the way this sounds and grunt out again. "What happened?"

Everything in my memory is hazy as my head feels as if it might explode every second now, from time to time, black and white specks are flickering in front of my eyes, and every other place in my body, especially my chest and bum are throbbing painfully.

And this time Mrs Hughes answers. How many people are in my bloody room? I wonder. Don't they know about this little fact called privacy?

"You two were mugged. I guess they took everything you two had in your possession. I'm very sorry, James." Her voice sounds soft and has an apologizing tone to it. Well even if she only means to be nice, this will help neither Thomas nor I.

I let my gaze linger on her understanding features as Dr Clarkson goes on. "You were very lucky and came out rather unscathed by it, you've only got some bruises."

"And Thomas? Is he alright?" I ask breathlessly. "Well I shouldn't talk about this to you…" He looks questioningly at Mrs Hughes and at her slight nod he tells me more. "Well he's...he's got two cracked ribs and looks even more colourful than you do. He'll probably be off duty for some time."

And after another examination and him testing if I've got a concussion he leaves me to rest. Apparently I am not concussed.

Well, isn't that nice…

I try to take a deep breath but stop as soon as I've started as I feel a sharp pain running through my side. Well that must be one of the places they hit, I notice dryly.

And once again, Thomas has gotten hurt because of me.

And the pain coursing through me at this thought is enough to make tears spring to my eyes and everything around me becoming glassy and unclear through my unshed tears lingering behind my lids. Why did I have to do this? Why did I feel the need to get this drunk? And walk under this dark bridge? And why did I stay there? Why didn't we just leave?

A thousand questions seem to cross my mind, only intensifying the pain I'm already experiencing because of the combination of my hangover and the thugs banging my head against something hard. And I clench my fists trying to breathe through the throbbing, until I feel a small hand covering my hand softly and carefully helping me to unclench my fingers from my fist.

I've already forgotten that Mrs Hughes is still in the room. She looks at me understandingly but doesn't say a word. She just sits there with me in silence and I somehow can't help but enjoy it, not being alone in this situation. It is quite comfortable.

Normally she wouldn't be my favourite person to sit in a room with while being hurt, that would probably be Thomas, but well…it could have been worse…it could have been Alfred or Molesley in here with me – a frown covering my face at this thought. Wow, that would be HELL.

And after some time Mrs Hughes smiles down at me encouragingly and leaves me to sleep some more with the words "everything will be alright, don't worry".

But somehow I can't help it but have my doubts about the truth of this statement.

Another day goes by with nothing much happening to me and I must say I'm quite relieved by this fact. Yesterday evening and today I'm off work to not aggravate my head too much and to have some time to heal the bruises. Thankfully the family's still away because under different conditions I don't believe Carson would have accepted me and Thomas both being off sick.

And happily I didn't have to see anyone but Daisy today, who's just brought me my meals.

I've never expected her to be so nice and understanding because I thought she'd be all about the fight and every detail that's taken place.

But no, surprisingly, she was very sensible and skipped this matter completely. She just told me about winning with the money I gave her and seriously asked if she should give her winnings to me, as I've lost everything I had just hours after it. But I declined, somehow feeling delighted to have such special people in my life who'd go to such length for me without thought. Maybe I'd need to overthink this matter sometime in the future as this is what friendship's all about – being there for each other.

I even got her to talk to me about Thomas. Sadly, she didn't bring him the meals but Ivy did, but nonetheless she knew that he must look awful, even his face bruised and beaten and I felt a sickening feeling settling in my stomach at this information.

I really needed to see him. As soon as possible.

And with that I made up my mind and as soon as I've finished my dinner, in private, I slowly stand up and feel my head spinning. Okay, slowly is still too fast, I notice. I take a quick look into the mirror to check my appearance before I shake my head at my own foolishness. Thomas definitely won't care how I look.

I sneak out of my room and with a slight knock, but without waiting for his answer, steal myself into his room. I softly close the door behind me and sheepishly look at where he's sitting on his bed. I see his look trailing over every single of my features, over my chest until it lands on my feet. And just then I notice that I'm only wearing my undershirt and pyjama pants, and am standing in his room with bare feet. A slight heat covers my face and I try to ignore it while doing my own examination of his appearance.

I can't help but cringe a little at the way he looks. The skin under his eyes is tinted a deep blue colour, a bruise covering the bridge of his nose, his lip split and showing a dried trail of blood as it must have opened again some time ago without him having noticed it. And I can't help the wish coursing through me to wipe it away. Unbelievable, this is all because of me.

Even his arms are coloured in deep blue and violet in many places and somehow I am happy that I can't see more of the damage that lies underneath his white undershirt.

And in this moment I try to remember. What did Dr Clarkson say? – Bruised and cracked ribs, was it? His pale, even chest must be covered in bruises as well.

I tearfully lower my gaze and try to swallow around the tightness in my throat. He shouldn't have to go through this just because of me.

I slowly sit in the chair in front of his bed, my eyes still on the floorboards, out of the corner of my eyes I'm able to make out how painful the task of slightly sitting more upright is for him. And in this second I can't help but beat myself up for this situation even more.

I got him hurt once again.

Thomas clears his throat to get my attention and looks at me with concern filling his pupils.

"Are you alright?" He asks for about the third or fourth time in just as many days.

I can't wrap my mind around this guy, there he lies, beaten up and blue and green and still his first concern is for MY well-being? Unbelievable.

A dry laugh escapes my mouth. "Is this really what you want to know? Wouldn't you rather scream at me for being so foolish to get us nearly killed?" I say as I lower my head into my hands, not able to look at him to see his reaction.

There's a moment of silence surrounding us as if he's contemplating his words carefully. "No, I first want to know how you are feeling? Are you in great pain? Did they hurt you badly?" He asks softly and with great worry painting his every syllable. I explain to him that everything's okay, and that I'll be expected back at work tomorrow.

He grumbles a slight confirmation before his voice is sharp from on instant to another. "But I really have to say that I'm still mad at you for the way you behaved! Why didn't you run when I told you to? I'd have covered for you, you know?" His tone is angry but his eyes are still only filled with concern and regret, nothing else.

"I couldn't leave you to fight my battle. And I'm sooo, sooo sorry that you've got hurt because of me…once again. Why were you even there?

Were you following me?"

Thomas agrees silently and I can't help but inquire some more.

"Why?

I mean, why were you following me?"

He snorts lightly and my eyes raise at this sound, never having heard it from him. "You had a little too much to drink…and I'd thought I'd just make sure…well that you were safe, I guess. Doesn't look as if I did a good job, with that, did I?" He asks with ill humour.

"But why?" The tone of my voice faint in the silence of the room. Thomas just gives me a look and says "You know why."

And with his words, I realize. He was trying to protect what is dear to him. Me.

This revelation's somehow too big for me to wrap my mind around it. Once again.

As a way to comfort myself I begin to play mindlessly with a loose thread on my pyjama pants. I just don't want him to get hurt anymore.

And somehow the words begin to tumble from my lips.

"Yeah, I know…but I…maybe you should start to keep your distance to me…as I don't want you to get hurt anymore.

It's just…I'm so sorry, for the way everything goes on between us.

I…I can't give you what you want…I'm soo sorry for what I'm putting you through…but I really can't

…even if I wanted to… That's just not the way I'm feeling about you.

And please understand this…I just…I really like you and…maybe…maybe we could be friends instead…I know it's not much…and certainly not enough for you..." My eyes are still focused on the thread until he calls out my name- and I like when he does this, calls my name.

I look at him expectantly. "I'd like this as well. Being friends, I mean" And somehow at seeing his reaction I feel as if the sun's rising inside me, maybe even a little lightheaded, but this time, in a good way.

As if on an afterthought I inquire: "Will I be allowed to address you as Thomas, now?" and at my words I can see this face scrunching up in confusing.

"You are ALWAYS addressing me as Thomas, even before." And I can't help but argue with him. "NOOOO, I definitely wouldn't do that. It's improper." I tell him seriously and like this we begin to banter on and on until we are not sure at which point this discussion even started. But me being the way I am, need to get a last word in. "Thomas"- and I as I see his meaningful gaze on me, I stop abruptly, "this was me calling you by your first name – for the very first time now, because we are friends now, understood?..." until I go on again for some time. And as it is with friends one topic leads to another until silence surrounds us once again, and my curiosity gets the better of me.

"What were they on about? And did they rob you as well? Do you know who's found us, after the fight I mean?" He nods solemnly and begins his narration with a cool detachment. "This was nothing new or me. That's why it definitely wasn't you fault at all. They saw us there together and drew their own conclusion and after this said all these despicable things about us, me being gay…and well let's leave it at this. It won't be a problem YOU'll have more often, that's more my problem. But I've come to accept it as one of the dangers of my…my orientation. I'll just have to live with it and hope no one will kill me because of it." The atmosphere around us suddenly so tight that you could have cut the air with a knife and my heart began to hurt for him at hearing these words coming from his lips. All the things he's got to go through just for living the way he wants without even openly being gay. That's just so unfair. And as I'm still worrying about the things he says, he already goes on as if he was just talking about a bad weather coming on.

"Apparently, it was Alfred who found us as he was looking for a place to…" His face becoming slightly red and he pauses. I give him a look and gesticulate for him to go on. "He looked for a place to pee. And found us there. Then he went to get Dr Clarkson who was at the fair as well. And well the rest you probably know yourself" Internally I can't help but shake my head at his behaviour, one moment he's able to make me embarrassed by his suggestive comments and the next he isn't able to talk about someone having to pee without becoming beet-red.

He's a curious one, that's for sure.

"I didn't have much with me, just some money…" And the second he goes on, he averts his gaze, letting me know that he's probably not telling the truth. "I didn't have anything valuable with me."

Soo, this means, he did have something important with him. Now I just need to find out what it was and maybe I'm going to be able to replace it somehow.

At least trying to give him THIS, if I'm not able to give him the love he wants.

I know, it's probably not much, but it's a start.

I want to see him happy again. Even if it's just for a moment.

* * *

><p>I hope you enjoyed the chapter...and now please be so kind and leave me a small comment. 3<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

Touches

Chapter 12

About a week and a half later of me making good of my promise of reading Thomas the paper every evening and slowly becoming good friends, he's finally back to work. He should still be on light duty but as far as I know him, he probably won't have it and throw himself wholeheartedly into his work.

It's just one day after the Crawley's arrived back from Duneagle and I can certainly say that I've never been as delighted to see them, because if there would have just been ONE more day of polishing the silver I think I would have thrown myself in front of a train. But happily that wasn't necessary.

And just as they are back, everything happens at once, Lady Mary had a healthy baby boy, making Carson beam all the time in proudness and as soon as that occurred Mr Matthew had the deathly car incident. This can't be an easy situation for a baby to grow up in and I hope that Lady Mary will be a loving mother for him nonetheless. I can't help but worry for the little one as I know that I was lucky enough to have a mother who put me over everything else and loved me dearly. And there couldn't have been a more important relationship in my life, of that I am certain.

But apparently these happenings are not enough as I hear the excited voice of Thomas calling my name through the dining room I was just preparing. He scurries in my direction and slowly takes a grip of my sleeve, his eyes wide with astonishment. Before I'm even able to ask what happened, he already begins to tell me himself.

"Ms O'Brien's gone."

But the words leaving his mouth aren't making any sense. Where would she be? What does he mean with 'she's gone'? And because of my questions I ask him "What do you mean? Gone where?" And his face is aflame with the news, happy that I did him the favour to ask for details. He replies more slowly this time. "Apparently she left a letter for Mrs Hughes and Lady Grantham, telling them that she's off with Lady Rose's family to leave for India." The excitement of this is making his cheeks flushed and I decide that it's a good look on him. Sadly our conversation can't go on as suddenly grumpy Carson enters the room as if having sensed our uproar and there to destroy our chance of chatter. Thomas gives me a meaningful look that we'll continue this matter later on until he's off without further ado.

For the next hours the house is bustling with the new information of Ms O'Brien's leaving. I don't really care either way. I didn't have much to do with her but I know that she and Thomas had quite a friendship going once. I really have to ask him how he's feeling at this revelation. As it's clearly one thing to end a relationship in a way and a completely different matter for the person to be gone from one's life entirely.

I just have some time to breathe and decide to make a small detour through the kitchens to officially begin my plan to help Thomas in getting his possessions back and maybe I'll find someone who's able to help me. Maybe Daisy will be worth a try and like this I enter the room softly. Luckily, Mrs Patmore's nowhere in sight as I certainly don't need a scolding that this is not the servants' hall for the hundredth time.

Only Ivy and Daisy are in the kitchens, obviously just preparing lunch for upstairs. My eyes are searching Daisy's and with a slight motion of my head in direction of the door show her that she should follow me. I'm waiting in the hall as she comes after me, wiping her hands on her apron. She looks at me expectantly and asks "what can I do for you" with a sweet undertone.

I can't help but smile at her helpfulness and she beams back at me.

"Daisy I really need to ask a favour of you." In reaction the nods decidedly, waiting for more details. "I know that you've worked with Mr Barrow for many years and I'd like to help him a little. You remember the evening we were robbed?" I ask her which makes her roll her eyes at me as if saying "duh". "Of course, I do." She says evenly. And I go on with my wish. "Do you know about something which may have been of value for him? Something he's always got with him? Something special or precious? Did you notice something over the years?" I demand hopefully. They've worked together for a long time and maybe there was something she remembered.

I see that the wheels in her head are turning at my question. Obviously it's not an easy question.

And well, I really shouldn't be surprised if she couldn't think of anything as Thomas's a very private person and only lets other people see a tiny glimpse of the real him.

Her eyes are flickering across the hallway as Mrs Patmore nears the kitchen and she looks hurriedly at me. "I'll think about it." I nod at her thankfully as she flees from the room to her workstation, not wanting to be missed.

Well, I really hope that this will get me somewhere as I've already raided my mind for information, but the only things I ever noticed in his possession which he always has got near him are his cigarettes and his lighter. Nothing meaningful there, sadly, as there's a new pack of fags grazing the insides of his pockets about once a week and the lighter is as cheap as they come, often only matches.

I go back to my work while thinking about possible important things Thomas might keep close to his heart which have gotten stolen a week before, because of me.

This evening during our dinner, I pay close attention to the way he's behaving, the expression in his eyes and try to find out what he really thinks of Ms O'Brien leaving Downton.

Is he sad about this? Or happy? Relieved? Or does he feel as if she's betrayed him for not telling him of her plans? Is he angry?

Well, I guess I'll have no other choice as to ask him later on, if I want to know the truth.

I had my plan to ask him as soon as dinner would be cleared.

It was nearing 10 o'clock and there was only Thomas, Alfred and I left playing cards and I really wished that the moment would eventually arrive when Alfred would decide that it was time for bed and I could finally have my talk with Thomas.

Even now that we were off work and could enjoy our free-time, his emotionless mask was perfectly in place, never even the shadow of a smile or frown or something likewise crossing his face.

I bet he'd be splendid at playing poker.

And finally Alfred gave a loud yawn and said his goodnights, leaving for his bed.

As soon as he's left the room, my eyes flow towards Thomas' and I try to figure him out. "You caring for a fag?" I try to spur him on as I know that this will be a safe place to begin as it always makes him more comfortable, well and me as well. He gracefully stands up, a nod shaking his head and we make our way into the courtyard.

We are coming to stand just in front of the building and I lean slightly against the wall, needing something to ground me a little.

I expectantly hold out my hand to show him that I'd like a cigarette as well before he even had the time to reach for one himself. A true smile lights his face, softening his features.

"I'd thought you'd be the one giving me a fag after it was your invitation in first place that brought us out here." He points out scolding, but gives me one nonetheless, his lips still curled pleasantly.

After he's lightened them as well and we've taken our first drag, I finally feel the courage in my bones and decide to start our talk. "Can I ask you something personal?" I mumble into the night, but I know that he's heard me as he moves a little 'til his eyes land on me. A groan comes from his lips and he answers "Aren't you always asking me personal questions?!"

And I certainly notice that he means it rhetorically and doesn't need me to answer, my eyes still on the court in front of us to give him some time to contemplate my question. But after some moments I can't help but prod him a little more "Come on, you know you can't say no to me." I tell him cheekily.

Fortunately he snorts light-heartedly and nods his head, the hair in front of his head slowly coming free of pomade and falling softly into his forehead with the motion.

"Well, I'll have to give you that much, you are probably the only person I won't ever be capable of saying no to. Don't let this get to your head, your ego's already big enough for a lad like you."

His shoulders are slumping a little in defeat as he awaits my questioning. And I try to do just that while his last words are still whirling through my mind.

"Why did you ever become friends with Ms O'Brien? Or why did it end? Did something happen between you two?" I demand curiously. He takes a deep breath and lets out a small laugh, his suddenness surprising me. "I allow you to ask me every question you'd like to know and seriously...that is what you decide on?! Oh, Jimmy Kent, you really are a funny one."

His humour lightens his face and my stomach pinches slightly at him calling me by my whole name. I can't help but delight in this as it somehow makes me feel very special to have him talk to me like this.

I tilt my head to grin at him and wait for his answer.

He needs some minutes, maybe trying to decide how much to tell me?

Is this really as uncomfortable for him as it seems to be? Maybe he had a relationship with her and after they broke up he decided that he liked men best. No, I shake my head at this ridiculous idea, who would EVER have a fling with that old hag? - And definitely not Thomas as he's by far too good for her. Well now I'm even more excited to get to the bottom of it.

There's a scrutinizing look on his face before he starts his story. "Okay, I better tell you, if you are so interested in the matter, as I see that your imagination is already running wild again...

Okay, where to begin...Ms O'Brien and I have soon become something like friends after be both began to work here. We started around the same time and couldn't help but notice that we had a lot of things in common...

We loved paying close attention to everything going on in the house- which can only be helpful for a servant- and soon I found myself talking to her more often than not, we'd smoke together and scheme together, always trying to find out things to help our position along.

Well would I describe her as a friend?...I don't think so, because I guess we both just kept this relationship going for the possible occasion that we'd need one another...nothing more and nothing less.

And I was always rather deliberate and carefree with our scheming, but one day she just...she went too far and I couldn't accept this. I won't tell you what it's been about as you really needn't know, so you don't have to ask me for details.

Even if I have my peculiar ways I'd always be loyal to the family to some degree...wouldn't betray them in the way she did.

After this…I was only talking to her when necessary and mostly kept to myself again.

I guess the way she handled things with you and I...that was only the last straw...as a FRIEND wouldn't have acted this way, EVER." There's a scathing tone painting his speech as he says 'friend'. And lets his words trailing off.

"Okay" I comment helplessly. "Thanks for being so honest with me.

And I really like that you'll keep this thing between you private... So, are you feeling alright with this new development?" I ask him, hoping deeply for any kind of reaction of him.

He takes a deep breath of his nearly finished cigarette again and lets his gaze land on me. As if contemplating my question further before he goes in for a reply.

Thomas lowers his eyes to the ground and begins to push some gravel around with the tip of his shoe. "I couldn't help but be offended by the way she treated me at last. I never would have expected that she would use you and my feelings for you against me...nearly destroying everything.

But happily, she underestimated us. Underestimated you and your...ability to forgive... And now...well I just guess that I'm happy that she's off because in the end, I didn't need her anymore.

Well, I guess in the short time that you've been here and the even shorter time of you being my friend, you gave me more than she ever could have." He gives me a shy, tentative look, looking through his eyelashes up at me and I can't help to beam at him in relief.

And effectively I tell him about my delight as well. "I think that's the best compliment anyone could ever have given me. Thank you, Thomas." He nods his head slowly in acceptance and I can see that this has been enough heart to heart for one evening. I give him another smile, and let my hand tenderly graze the skin just over his pulse on his left, scarred hand.

And with a mumbled 'good night' I'm off to bed - as there's no way this evening could get any better.

As soon as I've reached my room, I change for bed and bask a little longer in the glow of his compliments. Somehow Thomas has got the ability to make me feel good about myself down to a t.

Now I only need to find out what the thugs have stolen from him at the fair. And get it back to him.

Well if anything sounds like an easy plan, than it's this one, I assure myself sarcastically. Well, tomorrow will bring new chances. And with this I glide into the warmth of sleep. And my last thought before I drift off is definitely a pleasant one 'good night, Thomas, sleep tight'.

* * *

><p>And now off with you to my comments. =)<br>I would love to hear from you.


	13. Chapter 13

Touches

Chapter 13

The next days, it gets warmer and warmer as dry September heat settles around us, and I hate it. Summer's never been my favourite season as far as I can remember. Most of the time the heat's killing me, slowly but steadily and the fact that Carson has us polishing the silver, again, nearly drives me nutters.

The worst thing is that my plan to make Thomas happy has not yet started, as I'm still hoping that Daisy will have some helpful insight. Just as I'm about to wander into the kitchens to steal a biscuit or anything similar to lighten my mood, the object of my thoughts materialises in front of me.

She jumps up and down as if she's tipsy or has just found out that she'll get a kitten for her upcoming birthday. I look at her with a blank expression on my face, hoping for an explanation for her behaviour rather sooner than later.

She softly grabs my arm and steers me in direction of the hallway, still jumping up and down, until I grab a hold of her shoulders and resolutely try to keep her in place. Her jumping combined with these temperatures makes me dizzy.

Daisy looks at me with a big grin plastered on her face and takes hold of my hands once again. "You'll certainly love me as soon as you hear what I've got to tell you." She concedes light-heartedly and my mood lights a little at her behaviour. "So tell me, make me love you!" I tell her with a playful tone of my own.

She comes even closer to whisper something in my ear and I have to say, I really don't mind her closeness. The happy tone of her voice makes me forget all about the heat or my hate of my job just seconds before...even more so as I hear what she's got to tell me.

"I've found out what you've wanted to know" she begins conspiringly. "They've stolen his pocket-watch." Now that's some information I can work with, my lips curving up with a delighted grin. "How?-" is all I get to say before she whispers on, still standing on tip-toes, one hand put on my chest for support.

"He's been in and out of the kitchens more often than usually, not even there to steal some sweets, like he always does, but just to look at the clock. Normally, he didn't have to do this as he always kept his pocket-watch close by. I remember that he's gotten it as a Christmas present from the family when he's been at Downton for ten years. I believe they've even had it engraved for him and he always valued it a lot. Have never seen him without it, before the accident...probably even been with him when he's gone to sleep..."

And with that I can't help but be overwhelmed by my own thoughts, no, I don't think that he had it with him the night of the...kiss.

But anyway I am thrilled by the news, at least that's somewhere I'm able to start. As a thanks, I hug her enthusiastically against me until I hear a coughing behind us.

And as we distance us from each other I look into the professional mask of one Mr Thomas Barrow.

"This is not the place to fool around with each other, do that in private." He says strictly and at this second I realise that I've never, never, known him to be so stern about anything at all. 

Really weird, but I push the thought away as soon as these concerns begin to enter my mind.  
>It's part of his job to pay attention that everyone's doing his work, and he did just that. Daisy giggles heartily besides me and brings me back into reality. I softly squeeze her hand and thank her for her help which she only acknowledges with an off-handed 'you are welcome, anytime' until she scurries back into the kitchens.<p>

For the next few days, I use every chance to "make myself useful" and run every errand possible for grumpy Carson or the family, as it's always a possibility to further my plan and to get lucky and find Thomas' watch.

But until now, I've got nothing to show for my effort.

Well not nothing, as Carson and Mrs Hughes apparently think that I'm just being helpful to secure my position in Downton and to make them happy. Pffft, they wish.

This evening, I've just come back from a hasty trip to Ripon to fetch a dinner jacket of Mr Branson's, which has been repaired at the tailor's. Hurriedly I went into every other store or seller in the street with no luck. I didn't find the bloody watch. Nonetheless I made use of the opportunity to speak to all the sales people to alert them of my search. Everyone was as kind as to tell me that they'd keep an eye out which would be a great help .

Now there's only Thirsk to go. But I'm really uncertain when I will be able to go there, I'll probably need to wait for my next half-day, which is in a week's time.

As I go up the driveway of the Abbey I can already make out the silhouette of a person standing by the servants' door, smoking.

Must be Thomas, I notice happily, maybe he'll be able to cheer me up a little.

Because of my extra duties this past few days, it's been already about four days that I've last spoken to him in detail. I guess this is the longest time not talking since before we've officially become friends. And I can already feel a prickling in my consciousness that I miss his company and his snarky comments...or even just being near him, smoking together in silence.

I'm slightly overwhelmed by the realisation that he's become such an important person to me in such a short amount of time. My best friend, I notice with a grin to myself.

Now I'm able to make out his form properly I direct the smile in his direction. But the thing I notice next, makes my stomach drop a little: his eyes follow my movements and as soon as I'm close enough that we could talk, he hurriedly drops his eyes and stumps out the fag he smoked, nearly fleeing back into the building.

I really wonder what his reaction has been about?  
>Did I do something to make him angry with me or even avoid me?<p>

As my thoughts wander around trying to find a clue of any misbehaviour on my side I eventually come up empty-handed. I try to shake my head clear of the dark mood that's suddenly settled around me, but it's not as easy, a gloomy feeling residing in my heart, still.

Did I hurt him in any way?

But before I can brood more about it, I wake up from my lethargy by Mrs Hughes' voice calling me in.

Slowly I stump up the stairs in direction of Mr Branson's chamber to bring back his dinner jacket. He opens the door as soon as my knock resonated from the wood. I simply hold out the bag and wait for his scrutiny if everything is as he wishes.  
>Some moments later his deep voice rumbles through my dream world, the problem is that I've been deeply closed off and wouldn't be able to describe his words if my life depended on it. I simply didn't hear him.<p>

A hand on my arm surprises me into action and my eyes suddenly fly to his blue-grey ones. A reassuring caring lies in them. "Is everything alright, James? You seem a little off." He asks me with real interest colouring words.

I just shrug my shoulders, before going back into my servants posture, "I'm not sure" I admit uncertainly, knowing that he should be one of the last people I spoke to about this, as he's part of the family.

But he doesn't accept my lack of an explanation, keeping the questions coming. "Is something...or someone troubling you, Jimmy."  
>I take a deep breath at hearing him address me at my informal title and can't help but wonder how I landed in a situation like this, pouring my heart out to Mr Branson, of all people. But his concern seems genuine, so I explain my doubts about Mr Barrow. His head is slightly tilted to the right as he listens closely to my words about my efforts of searching for Thomas' pocket watch and my insecurities why he would be angry with me and reacted so coldly at even seeing me.<p>

As I've finished my exclamations he pats my arm in a brotherly fashion and tries to encourage me.

"Thomas is quite a peculiar person. I think he'll be really thankful for what you went through to get his watch back, even in case you don't find it." He promises me before continuing. "If I were in your position, I'd just behave as if you didn't notice his reaction before. Just do as if nothing happened and if he's short with you, just ask him about it. From what I've gathered while I still  
>worked downstairs, he's alone most of the time and maybe he'll just need some time to adjust to having a REAL friend close by. As I don't think O'Brien would count as that in any universe. Or he doubted your friendship when you didn't spend much time with him in the last days. Maybe he's just trying guard his heart a little" He ends with a small laugh and somehow, because of his insistence, I can't help but believe in the truth of his words.<p>

Everything will be alright. I just needn't worry so much.  
>I thank Mr Branson deeply for his insight before leaving his room again, his words "every time" floating behind me through the hallway. And a little lighter in my heart, I go back down to confront my fears, namely Thomas.<p>

As I make my way downstairs I meet Daisy who's just setting everything up for our dinner. She gives me a friendly smile and musters me with a questioning look. Without needing her to ask the question, I tell her that I wasn't successful in my search, yet.

She comments it with a pitying look and tells me cheekily: "you could take my bicycle the next time you go to town, this way you'll be much faster."

I thank her for her kindness but decline her offer with a doubtful look. Me on a bicycle? - That won't happen any time soon, as I'm certain that this is only to be used by little kids, women or postmen. And as I'm neither of these things, that's out of question.

Well the real problem is that I've never learned how to ride one.

Not that I'm about to give up this fact to anyone. That's a private matter.

In the next minutes everyone begins to filter in, ready for our dinner to start and done with most of the work of this day. Thomas is one of the last people to enter for our meal, and as he steps into the room, normally he'd give me a small smile to acknowledge my existence, but today he just takes his place at the other side of the table and stares at his plate as if it will fill under his close scrutiny.

I try to catch his gaze but he keeps his eyes closely fixed downwards.

Bloody hell, something is definitely amiss with him.  
>- A dreading thightness settles into my chest and seems to squeeze my heart.<p>

Oh Thomas, what did I do wrong to vex you? I wonder and can't help but be a little depressed again. Mr Branson's words enter my mind, but at the moment I'm really not sure how to act towards my favourite under-butler when dinner will be finished.

I try not to think about it too much and concentrate on the conversations going on around me, contemplating my further behaviour and plan for the evening.

Maybe I should take Daisy up on her offer and take her bicycle on my next day off.

Can't be too hard to manage, I imagine, I've always been rather sportive, so that won't place a problem. One or two tries and I'll get it sorted. I'm quite certain of that. I'll get to it just after dinner's finished. Like this I'll be able to ignore my 'Thomas situation' for a while longer and maybe tomorrow everything will be back to normal again.

Yes, that's what I'll do.

It's thirty minutes later and the last rays of sun are grazing the tops of the trees as I make my way through the courtyard and towards a little shed holding all the supplies for the gardens and some bicycles.

I take a closer look at them, even if it's hard to make out which could be the one of Daisy as it's getting rather dark in here. I crouch closer to one of them to get a better look and notice that the saddle is far too high to be Daisy's, the next one could be a better call as it's got a little basket on the front and on the back. This makes sense, as she'd probably need it to transport some groceries and other things. I take it from its position leaning against a wall and slowly take it outside.

In the minutes I've been inside the shed the sun has set completely and everything is bathed in darkness, which I'm rather thankful of as I definitely don't need one of the other servants, let alone the family, to see me like this.

I steer the bike onto some even ground and swing my leg over the saddle, my feet still solidly on the ground.

So I'll just have to put my feet on the pedals and try to steer forward while moving my legs? - Can't be too hard, can it?

And as I slowly raise my legs to begin my tour, I begin to realise just how HARD this is, because as soon as both my feet leave the ground I feel something pulling me down. Before I'm able to react, a surprised squeak leaves my mouth and I find myself on my side, on the ground.  
>Ouch. That's humiliating.<p>

Maybe I'll rather try it on the grass, at least this way the fall won't hurt as much. I straighten myself and the bike and push it, with my feet safely on the ground to a close patch of grass. I think I now noticed what I'll need to change. 

The key to success is holding my balance.

But as soon as this thought crosses my mind, I'm already toppling over again. And the worst thing is that I already know that it's happening as everything seems as if reality slowed down around me but I can't do anything to avoid the fall.

As I find myself on the ground again, this time in the grass, my concentration gets disturbed by a thundering laugh crossing the night air.

Bollocks, who saw my helpless fumbling's? 

The laugh comes nearer to my position on the grass and Thomas holds out his hand to help me up. Apparently I've shocked him into forgetting his anger or whatever negative feelings towards me.

Sadly, somehow I managed to get stuck with the bicycle and he isn't able to help me up that easily. He changes his course of action: he slightly pushes on my shoulder as if to show me to lay back on the grass, his face suddenly only a few inches from mine and my heart can't help but change its beat into an irregular staccato. I can feel the warmness of his breath skimming my face.

Is he going to kiss me? Again?  
>My thoughts are running a mile a second and everything gets dizzy around me.<p>

Thomas smiles encouragingly down at me and gets back to his full height, without a kiss...  
>Next he grabs the devil on wheels, taking my leg from its position to untangle them and carefully leans the bike against a tree beside us, his hand speeding down to me again, to help me up properly as well. As he pulls my weight to stand he's slightly grazing his thumb over the back of my hand and a small shiver works its way up my arm.<p>

His heartfelt laughter cuts through the tense air around us once more and the lines at his eyes begin to crinkle. He's happy and showing me his true emotions.

I love that and can't help but join him in his laughing.

Just after he looked me over for any injuries, he takes the bicycle himself and shows me how it's done properly. I really envy him in this second as everything he does looks so effortless...very different than my turn.

His movements are gracious and he looks so carefree making a round through the backyard and over the grass. 

Minutes later he's back, panting a little, his cheeks stained red from the exertion. Thomas' face is still painted by a big smile and I can't imagine ever having seen him so real. So full of emotion.

I enjoy that he shows me the real him while in my company.

"So...you can't ride a bike?" Thomas asks needlessly and I only shrug my shoulders and throw a sheepish look towards him.

And as soon as I've reacted he's already at my side, bicycle in hand. "Come on, I'll help you" he tells me encouragingly and softly takes my arm to steer me towards this thing of hell.

Before I am able to protest, he's already stabilising the bike. I swing my leg over the saddle, one of his hands comes to rest on the handlebar and his right one settles on my lower back. I can't help but risk a look over my shoulder, some inches more and his hand would lie directly on my backside, but somehow I wouldn't mind it slipping off. 

But well…that's how it works between friends, doesn't it? 

That you feel really comfortable in the company of each other...

Next his grey, now nearly black eyes settle on my own before he instructs me further. "Feet on the pedals and move your feet slowly, I'm going to balance you." And while soaking some air into my lungs, I do as he said, softly moving my feet and with Thomas' help the bicycle moves forward without me falling to the ground seconds later.

He carefully walks beside me and helps me steer and balance us. The movements over the grass get easier by second and we pick up a little speed, making Thomas run.

And somehow, while trying to keep me close, it happens.

His hand must have wandered up my back to keep a hold of me, until it lands directly on the nape on  
>my neck. My head's suddenly as empty as the wine cellar after a party.<p>

I'm dazed by the recollection of the last time this happened, and all the things which occurred between us since then. Everything. EVERYTHING.

Without my movement, Thomas alone isn't able to hold me up that easily as I stopped pedalling without his notice of my actions.

Exactly one second later, the result is upon us.

He's still holding my neck as a sharp 'Oi' escapes his lips and the devil's wheels and myself tilt to the side, making Thomas stumble until we fall on our sides.

Onto Thomas, to be precise.

And suddenly time slows around us, no sound penetrating the silence of the yard, just the moon shining down on us dismissively.

And this is what I open my eyes to: me lying on the grass, bicycle angrily stabbing into my side and under us - Thomas. My hands are circling his head as I was apparently trying to break our fall. But otherwise I'm laying completely on top of his form. Thomas is on his back, his hand curiously still having a decided hold on my neck as if trying to keep me safe and near.  
>Trying to protect me.<p>

I can hear his deep breathing, his eyes are closed, a frown furrowing his brow. Subconsciously, I try to free myself of the metal between my legs and softly push this thing away.

And I have to correct my thoughts from a few moments ago - NOW I'm laying directly on top of Thomas. But I don't mind, and I'm really keen on his reaction. This second, there's no hint of what he's feeling.

I move a little closer to get more comfortable and suddenly his eyes fly open as if someone has hit him over the head.

Thomas' cheeks get painted in a deeper red than before which scurries down towards his collar.

That's a very curious behaviour as nothing happened to make him react like this. His hand gently glides over the nape of my neck, his eyes avoiding mine desperately. I suck in some air, frantically trying to clear my head and apparently it works.

Well it rather makes me realize why Thomas reacted the way he did.

He's hard under me.

And with that I don't just mean the muscles under his clothes, but HIM. Namely a peculiar part of him stirred on by our closeness and the heat building between us.

I made him react like this?

It seems like such a surreal thought that plain me can make him do something like this, make him feel desire...and attraction. 

And it's quite a heady thought.

In realisation my ears begin to heat and I feel a significant stirring in my nether regions as well. I try not to show him that I noticed anything being out of the ordinary, trying to calm my breathing and my thoughts into calmness. I let my eyes trail over his chest towards his face, somehow reluctant to look at him directly.

But no, I have to do this properly as I don't want him to be uncomfortable in my company.

My eyes carefully trail over his full lips, which are slightly glinting in the moonlight and I can't help but reside there a second longer. What would they taste like if I kissed him just now? - Of tea, of cigarettes or the dessert, he indulged in this evening at dinner... 

A desperate need to know for sure builds in my heart, making it thud heavily in my chest.

But why would I suddenly even care?

I'm not lavender, I just…I care for Thomas. And I like him…

And…Technically I know already how he kisses, if he's passionate, careful or playful about it...

But in reality I don't remember much as most of it happened while I was asleep.

And how should I know if the real Thomas and my dream Thomas are alike?  
>I can't.<p>

And I shouldn't…shouldn't think about the way he kisses or what his skin tastes like. Shouldn't care.

Somehow, something's holding me back...holding me back from exploring…from finding out. And I know why…

I'm afraid.

Afraid to change anything between us.

And like this, I reluctantly realise that I have to give up. I can't do it. Make the first move. Or do anything at all.

Suddenly it's not only his skin lying on the beginning of my head, softly combing through the fine hair there, but also fear having a tight hold of me. Nearly strangling me. These thoughts need to be erased. I can't think like this. It will only make things harder between us. As I'm NOT like him. I'm not. I like girls.

Slowly my eyes continue their journey, sadly without answers, towards the curve of his cheekbones, the straightness of his nose, the depth of his eyes. And the way we are currently positioned, he can't escape my gaze.

In his eyes lays an insecurity combined with something else...a completely different emotion I've  
>rarely seen him with...could that be his love for me? Maybe that's what it looks like...<br>But I can't be sure, not really.

I have to distance myself from him, both bodily as well as emotionally. I cannot allow my desires to rule my head. And like this I contemplate what to do next.

I let my eyes give him a hesitant smile and with a nearly soundless 'I'm sorry' I try to sit up.

My hand seems to have grown a mind of its own because as I push myself from the ground, or more correctly, from Thomas' body, it delicately encounters soft skin. And as my eyes flow towards my hand, I see it gently grazing Thomas' cheek.

In reaction, he takes in a sudden breath and I see his Adam's apple bobbing soundly.

I coolly help him up and bring the bicycle back towards the shed.

Cycling is off my learning list...as other things as well…

I'll happily never do it again, of that I'm sure. Quite sure.

Thomas follows me quietly, trailing some steps behind me and out of the corner of my eye I can see how he discreetly tries to lengthen his livery as to hide his evident interest in me.

No such luck.

We silently make our way back towards the servants' entry. This was definitely enough action for one evening for me. Far too much turmoil to be precise.

And as I bid him goodnight and thank him for his effort, my eyes unconsciously fly towards his trousers for one last time, making my heart beat a little faster.

I can't imagine that I'm going to have a restful night ahead of me, in having this knowledge and these thoughts…


End file.
